


Make My Way Back

by mountain_ash



Series: Keep the Faith for Me [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Dysphoria, Caregiver Burnout, Caretaker Castiel, Castiel Has Doubts, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Castiel in the Bunker, Dating, Developing Relationship, Disabled Dean Winchester, Falling In Love, Fights, Future Fic, Grieving Castiel, Hallucinations, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Dean Winchester, Internal Conflict, Laughing Castiel, Memory Loss, Michael Possessing Dean Winchester, Muscle Memory, POV Dean Winchester, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: s13e23 Let the Good Times Roll, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sharing a Bed, Sort Of, Time Skips, Unrealistic Expectations, un-betaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-05-28 14:42:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15051395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mountain_ash/pseuds/mountain_ash
Summary: Dean's subconscious fights Michael with all he has, leading to a series of barely coherent hallucinations and Dean kicking Michael out. When it's finally only Dean again, he's not fully there. Castiel tries to rebuild him one more time, but when the pieces aren't all there, how will he and Dean fit?





	1. Possession

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this is turning into a much longer fic than I meant it to but it's fun to write so I hope you enjoy it! I may end up adding more tags as I write.
> 
> The non-con elements are brief, non-explicit and hallucinatory in nature and are only present in Chapter 1. Additionally, the entire concept of Michael possessing Dean is non-con.

_I’m coming back. I’m coming back. I’m-_

**You’re not coming back, you insignificant ant.**

_I am! I will._

He could already feel himself slipping deeper into his mind, though. To a place where he didn’t even know he wasn’t himself any longer. _How did Sammy do this?_

A laugh echoed in his head, deep and loud. His laugh, but not his.

**My brother is nothing compared to me. I am the angel that drove him to earth. Your brother’s fight was easy.**

_I will. I will._

But he couldn’t. Nowhere in his mind could Dean find what he was looking for. Michael was nowhere. The outside world was nowhere, Cas was nowhere. Cas.

Cas was in front of him. He held a small duffle in his hand. Dean was holding a half-empty beer, wet with condensation.

“I thought you said you were going to be ready to go in half an hour.” Cas chided dryly. His tone was impatient, but his eyes were crinkled in good humor.

Dean shook his head slightly against the haze of tangled cobwebs muddling his thoughts. Cas wasn’t supposed to be here. He was pretty sure Cas wasn’t supposed to be here. “Where’d you come from?”

Cas tilted his head in that way. “Our room.” His tone made it sound like that was obvious, but should that be obvious? Dean felt like he was dreaming, but not in that pleasant ‘I never want to wake up’ sort of way. More in that deeply upsetting, ‘something isn’t right but I don’t know what so I can’t avoid it’ sort of way. Those were Dean’s worst nightmares. Was he in a nightmare? When had he gone to sleep?

“ _Our_ room? Cas, we don’t have a room. I have a room and you have a room for whenever you decide you’re gonna pop in.”

The angel is frowning deeply now and he drops the bag at his side. He strides forward and presses the back of his inhumanly temperature-less hand to Dean’s forehead.

“You don’t have a fever.” Cas mutters under his breath, as though Dean won’t hear him.

Knocking his hand down, Dean backs away and into the kitchen island. “Of course I don’t have a fever. What is up with you?”

“Nothing is up with me Dean, but you’re acting as though you don’t remember the last two and half months. Did you hit your head or something?”

He _did_ have a headache. Dean wasn’t certain when it had started, but his head was pounding. The lights were making his eyes hurt, his shoulder was throbbing, and suddenly his ankle hurt so badly he felt he couldn’t stand on it any longer. Cas swooped in beside him and supported his weight with one arm around his waist as he pressed the other hand to Dean’s forehead. The long-familiar sensation of pleasantly warm grace swirling through his blood, overwhelmed him momentarily, and then the pain was gone.

“Dean?” Cas asked tentatively. “What happened?”

Dean tried to remember, he tried really hard, but he couldn’t. Nothing came to mind as to why in the world he’d been so banged up. Had he been banged up when he’d started talking to Cas? Where had Cas’s duffel gone?

“Let’s go look at the Impala.” Cas suggested firmly. He slipped his fingers in between Dean’s and tugged him in the direction of the garage.

Dean stared down at their fingers. Should that feel so strange? Cas had done it with such ease, so it must be something they do a lot. Dean should have butterflies in his stomach at those implications, but he was too confused to be excited. 

“Cas why don’t I remember anything? You healed me, so shouldn’t I remember?”

“You should.” Cas answered, but there was a question in his voice. “You’d been out on a hunt with Sam. Maybe you got hit with a spell, like that one time Rowena had to help you.”

“I was on a hunt?” That couldn’t be right. Cas had had that duffel. But the bag wasn’t there anymore.

“Yes. You were hunting a witch in Cody, Wyoming.”

Dean blinked at the angel momentarily as he processed that information. “Well…then how did I get here?”

“I went and picked you up. We just got back.”

The duffel. That explains the duffel. But where did the duffel go? Dean looked over at the floor where Cas had initially dropped it and there it sat.

“Oh. Okay.” Dean scanned the floor anxiously as he worked through all that Cas had told him. It didn’t make sense. Their conversation didn’t have a normal flow, but his memory had been tampered with, so that must be it. He couldn’t even remember the car ride home, so how would he possibly keep track of the events thereafter?  “I can’t keep track of what’s happening, Cas. It’s like I can’t even remember what we were talking about 2 minutes ago.”

Cas stepped forward, deep into his space, and Dean felt his heart pounding as the angel’s grace buzzed around him.

“Dean, do you remember me?” Something sad and insecure cracked in his voice and Dean’s heart broke as he realized the answer to his question.

“Yes? No? I don’t really know. I know who you are. I know what you are. I know we know each other. But, I can’t really remember why I know any of that.” He watched the light dim in the angel’s eyes as his words fell into the too small space between them and his stomach clenched in guilt. He and Cas. They were something special, he thinks, according to the way Cas is reacting. “Were we…together?”

Cas swallowed hard and Dean caught himself staring at the angel’s throat at the movement.

“Dean, I fell from heaven for you.”

Heaven. Angels. Weren’t they fighting the angels?

Dry lips pressed against his suddenly and Dean moaned impulsively as Cas’s heavy weight pressed him hard against the wall. Before he could think about what this meant, Dean felt Cas’s tongue lick across the seam of his lips and Dean eagerly opened his mouth for the angel. It was so much, Cas’s body pressed hard against his, hip bone pressing into Dean’s thigh and fingers gripping tight at his neck. Cas’s lips had felt familiar, the dryness and warmth loving and inviting. Dean was certain they’d done that before. This though, he couldn’t place. No aspect of the angel’s roaming hands and wanting body were familiar to Dean.

He felt trapped and suffocated by angel’s greedy mouth, and Dean pulled away, ducking out from beneath Cas’s arms where they bracketed his head.

“Stop.” He said, his breath shaking. “Stop. I don’t know you!”

Cas looked affronted, almost put-upon. “That’s never stopped you in the past. All those strange women you sleep with.”

Dean’s mouth dropped open in shock. That wasn’t something someone who cared about you would say, was it? Cas seemed to care about him. Dean thought Cas cared about him.

“Do you want me to make you dinner?” Cas asked suddenly. “I know your burger recipe. Maybe some food will help you feel better." 

“I’m not feeling well?” That was a dumb thing to ask, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t he know if he wasn’t feeling well.

“You drank too much last night and were hungover. You’ve been sleeping much of the day.” 

Dean scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I guess that’s why I don’t remember getting home, huh? Not as young as I used to be.”

“That is generally how age works, yes.”

A chuckle escaped him easily at Cas’s dry humor.

“How d’you know my recipe anyway, huh? I’m the only one who cooks around here." 

“I can taste every molecule, Dean. I know exactly what’s in all of the food you make.”

“How come you never cook then?” His tone was exasperated but Dean could feel the easy smile resting on his lips at their banter. He’d missed this. The time spent trying to find mom and fighting Lucifer had been barren of playfulness. Lucifer. They had beaten him, right? How, though? 

“You enjoy cooking, Dean. Why would I take that away from you just because I know how?” His expression told Dean he knew he was right and Dean wasn’t going to argue, so he shrugged acceptingly. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and they’ll be ready once you are.”

This was so domestic, Dean thought as he padded down the hall towards the bathroom in his bare feet. He wished it could always be like this, but something always invariably went wrong in their lives. Cas might be making him a burger as he recovered from his hangover today and tomorrow they might be running from the Devil again.

Dean stepped under the piping hot shower spray and sighed as the water soaked his hair, gritty from an evening in a dirty bar. But they’d killed the Devil long ago. So long ago, Dean couldn’t even remember how they’d managed it.

Wait. That didn’t seem right. How could he possibly not remember how they’d finally managed to kill Lucifer? They would have needed some seriously big guns to destroy him once and for all. Guns bigger than the Colt, certainly. But he couldn’t remember? Dean remembered needing consecrated iron rounds to kill the shtriga from his childhood. No way would he not remember every infinite detail of killing Lucifer.

Pulling at his wet hair anxiously Dean found himself sliding down the wall of the shower in panic as he attempted to drag the memory from his mind. Blinding light filled his mind and Dean felt as though his chest was about to explode from the pressure building inside him. The only thing holding him together was the memory of a hand pressed tight to his chest. His hand. What was holding him together? Something had to be holding him together. Blue eyes flashed in his mind, piercing through the fierce white light engulfing his thoughts.

Cas.

_Cas! Cas, I need you!_

“I’m here, Dean. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

They were in his bed and Dean was naked and Cas was lying beside him. How had they gotten into bed?

“You were having a nightmare.”

“Oh.” It came out as little more than a hoarse puff of air. “It was so vivid.”

“You were calling for me. Do you remember why?”

Dean screwed his eyes shut and pinched his nose-bridge forcefully, as if that would squeeze the memory of his dream back to the forefront. He could only remember one detail. 

“It was about Lucifer.” He watched as Cas furrowed his brow in concern.

“Hmm.” Was all Cas said, before pulling the blanket back over him, as if saying, ‘Go back to sleep.’

He couldn’t fall back asleep though. Something wasn’t quite right; he just couldn’t place it. After several minutes of tossing and turning, Castiel spoke.

“What’s the matter, Dean?”

The question was like a spotlight and Dean could finally pinpoint the problem. “I’m naked. I don’t sleep naked." 

Cas’s hand was suddenly roaming down his chest, a sly smirk on his face. “That’s because we weren’t sleeping.”

Dean had half a moment to be confused before the angel’s hand had drifted lower and other parts of him were more interested in Cas than his brain was in deciphering his confusion.

The angel moved under the comforter to straddle him and Dean groaned as their hips ground together. Castiel’s movements above him felt strange though, as though Dean had seen them before, on a screen or maybe just in his mind. The angles of his hip bones and finesse of his muscles felt hazy as though Dean wasn’t quite feeling them. The sounds coming from Cas’s mouth were hot and intense and exactly what Dean had fantasized he would sound like.

‘Would sound like. Fantasized.’

This wasn’t Cas. Not his Cas. He didn’t know this Cas, he was sure of it. He didn’t know the angel’s body like this, no matter how much he wished to. Dean didn’t know what was in bed with him but it wasn’t Cas. He couldn’t get out, couldn’t free himself. He shoved and pushed, but Castiel used his angel strength to pin Dean’s hands above his head as he ground his hips down into Dean with more power than he needed. More power than Cas would ever rightfully use without permission.

_Cas! Cas, where am I? I need you! Cas, help me, please! I don’t know where I am!_

“Dean what are you talking about? I’m right here.” Castiel leaned down, trying to kiss him but Dean turned his head away and the angel’s teeth clashed with his jaw.

In front of him was Cas. His Cas, sitting in the chair he left out for him to come home to.

_Cas!_

His words weren’t working, but he knew the angel heard him.

“You let me in.” The angel said incredulously, before fixing his gaze directly on him. “Dean, Michael has you. You have to expel him.

**Get out!**

Castiel leapt from Dean’s lap and shouted at Cas in fury.

“Michael has me?” Dean wondered to himself in a daze as he watched his angel face down his doppelganger. The clues built in his mind, a set of logical beads finally forming a coherent strand of thought. The disappearing bag. The hangover. The blinding light. The kiss that was familiar but the body that wasn’t. The blinding light. The blinding light.

Michael was possessing him! That’s how he’d defeated Lucifer. That’s why Castiel couldn’t answer him.

Roaring sound assaulted him and he felt as though it would crush him into fine dust. Dean collapsed into a ball on his bed, clutching at his ears and head with his arms as though protecting himself from a tornado. His entire being vibrated with the overwhelming wavelengths of sound and he was reminded of the early days when Cas tried speaking with him.

‘Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage.’ Cas had said that when they’d first met, those ten years ago. Was it longer than ten years now? How long had Michael been possessing him?

“Dean! Dean you have to fight him! Don’t bow down now.” Cas was crouched before him on the bed, gripping his face tightly in his hands and forcing Dean to look at him. “I know you’re tired, but you have to expel him. Please, Dean.”

The final words fell from Cas’s lips more as a choked plea for mercy. Dean felt as though his bones were splintering with the force of soundwaves crushing him from all directions. He shook his head pitifully as tears began falling down his cheeks.

“I don’t know if I can.” 

“You said you needed me, Dean. Well I’m here, but I need you too.”

Cas leaned in and pressed his lips to Dean’s, the familiar warmth and dryness more real than anything Dean can remember. He presses into it, focusing on nothing but the faint buzz of Cas’s grace in the air about them, tuning out the shrieking roar of Michael’s fury. They remained joined for a period of time Dean couldn’t define before he finally pulled away and looked his angel directly in the eyes, green matching blue.

“I will come back to you.” He said, finally remembering his promise.

“Please.” Cas breathed in reply, before fading into nothing.

Dean was alone then, sitting in the Impala in what was suddenly the white expanse of his mind. At the very edge, was a wide-open door, the bunker door, and sitting beside him, was Michael.

**You can’t get rid of me, Dean. I’m too strong. You’re too worn down.**

_The Impala is worn down too, but I keep her going._

Without hesitation, Dean drove towards the bunker door, pushing Baby to the limits of her speed. This was going to hurt.

_I’m sorry Cas. I’m not sure I am coming back._

In the last moments, Dean secured his seatbelt and then his face was in his steering wheel, Michael was crashing through the windshield, and the world around him was white no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	2. Scattered

He's surrounded by bookshelves. He knows these books.

"Good to see you again, Dean."

Dean turned slowly towards the front of the shelves and there at the end stood Death, sheathed in her midnight-black dress. He'd expected this, but he felt his heart constrict all the same. _Goodbye Sam. Cas. Not coming back after all I guess._

"Billie. I guess I'm dead then."

She shot him a sardonic smile that bordered on a grimace. Dean felt a shudder drip down his spine.

"Surprisingly, no. If you were, you'd be asleep in the Empty and not even know it." 

"Sooo why am I here? I know you said 'see you again, soon' but if I'm not dead, then?" Dean let his question hang incomplete with a confused shrug.

"You're not dead, but you have the option to be. Just say the word and you're done." 

Dean's brain screeched to a halt. "Why would I do that?"

"Because if you go back, you are not going to be the same and life is going to be very hard for you." He's reminded of Rafael's vessel, fried and destroyed inside. Billie must know his thoughts. "Yes, very much like Mr. Donnie Finnerman, only worse. He gave himself into Raphael and Raphael absolutely demolished him. You on the other hand, fought tooth and nail against Michael to hold yourself together in order to claw your way out. In the process, you tore yourself apart. Smashed to smithereens like a clay pot dropped on the floor."

"How am I here now, then? Talking to you like usual."

"The veil restores all. The same would be true if you went to heaven or hell. The pieces of you would be reassembled."

"But if I go back to my body?" Dean doesn't really want to know, but he needs to make an informed decision. For Sam and Cas's sake.

"I'm not sure what you'll be. Cas won't be able to heal you. Nor will Jack. Frankly only time will tell what will become of you."

"I could be alright again though, right? Eventually?"

"The potential exists. You fought Michael much more fiercely than I predicted. A new book appeared on your shelf while you were possessed. I suppose it's entirely possible you handle this challenge better than expected. GED and give 'em hell attitude, right?" 

"You tryin' to tell me I should go back, Billie? I thought you wanted me dead."

She pressed her lips together tightly and looked to the ceiling in consideration. "You've served your purpose, Dean. You don't have to go back. Your struggle could end. But this struggle would lead you to a life built of your design, and that might be kind of nice for both of us."

"So you're telling me that if I go back, and I pull this off, I get to stay out of trouble?"

"I'm telling you that if you go back, and you pull this off, the universe isn't going to orbit around you anymore. And when I do reap you, I want you good and dead. The natural way." 

Dean met her gaze evenly, and felt strangely at peace with his decision, despite the uncertainty of it all. 

"I'm going back, then." 

She grinned smugly. "See you later, Dean." 

~~~~

Everything is black. 

“Dean? Dean?” 

Is he Dean? Whose voice is that? It was persistent and hoarse. 

“Is he alive?” 

That was a different voice, farther away. The voice is deep and rough, as though the words had to fight past canyons of rocks before making their entrance as sound. Something soft and warm is pressed to his neck and he's distantly aware of the dull, rhythmic thudding he can feel there. His heartbeat, he thinks. He's fairly certain that’s what it's called. 

“He’s alive, but he’s- “ 

“Not here.” The gravel and rocks voice finishes, now much closer. There's a sound in his voice that makes him (Dean?) feel something uncomfortable, but he can't place what it is. It constricts his stomach and sends cold shooting through his chest. He wants it to stop. 

A swooshing sound fills the air followed by a gentle flapping noise and then something soft is being pressed beneath his head. He's more comfortable this way, though he hadn’t been aware of being uncomfortable before. His body must know more than he does. 

“I’ll go get the car.” The original, smoother voice speaks. The gravel and rocks voice doesn't answer. 

Silence surrounds him for a while and he finds himself forgetting someone is with him, but then a dull thud hits his ears and he remembers, vaguely, that he isn’t alone. A gentle object presses to his forehead and something about the touch is so familiar but he can’t place it. Who is he again?

“I can’t heal you, Dean.” That’s right. _Dean._ “I don’t even have the power I had before to transfer your wounds to myself.” 

He doesn't know what power the gravel and rocks voice is talking about. Why does he need healing? He can gather from their conversation that he isn’t working as he should but he isn’t even certain what he's supposed to be doing. 

Well, he at least knows one thing: he has a name. Dean. And if he has a name, that means he's something, he just has to figure out what that something is.

A smooth rumble draws gradually closer and Dean feels instinctively that this was The Car. He doesn’t know what a car is though. 

“Okay, Dean. It’s time to go home.” Gravel and Rocks. He apparently has a name. It would be nice for the voices to have names, too.

Abruptly objects that are simultaneously hard and soft are lifting him from the ground and then he feels the gentle up and down sway of being moved. He isn’t sure how. Presumably into The Car. The car seems important. Maybe it should have a name, too. 

This surface is much softer and Dean realizes he's more comfortable, despite suddenly feeling as though he doesn’t have enough space. His head is raised, but not on whatever had been there before. The same gentle touch has returned to his forehead and Dean feels the tight ball of _something_ that had been building during the transfer uncoil. Naming his feelings would also be nice, but all Dean can do is experience them; attempt to describe them. What he knows at the moment is that he doesn’t want Rocks and Gravel to leave. 

“You alright back there, Cas?” The smoother voice asks from somewhere farther away.  _Cas. Cas. Don’t leave, Cas. Say you’re alright._

“Yes, Sam.” Dean is aware of pressure that had built in his chest and it's uncomfortable. He wants to release it, now he knows Cas won’t leave him, but he doesn’t know how. He'll have to wait he supposes. 

The smooth voice is Sam, then. Sam and Cas. Who are Sam and Cas? 

The Car begins moving and Dean doesn’t like it. His body jars on every movement and he feels as though he'll rattle apart. A soft, steady grip slips behind his hair and finally Dean realizes it's Cas’s hand. Hands. People have hands. Does he have hands? He can’t move them or see them so he isn’t sure. Is he a person? The thoughts make his heart beat faster and the insistent pounding in his chest is aggravating. He wants it to stop, but it won’t. 

“Shh, shh. You’re safe, Dean.” Cas’s voice is low and soothing, his hand making pleasant circles through Dean’s hair. He's safe, Cas says so. His heart calms down some and Dean no longer feels he might explode. 

“Did he say something?” Sam asks loudly from the front. He's not as good at controlling his voice as Cas is. Dean wishes he would stay more even, because he doesn’t know what all of the different tones of voice mean. 

“No. His heart just got very fast for a moment. I think he was,” Cas pauses and Dean hopes he finishes his thought. Was what? He needs someone to say what he is. “Anxious.” Cas finally concludes. 

Anxious. That sounds right. If anxious is what that heart-pounding, out of control feeling was, then he was anxious. He wishes he had a nice feeling to identify. 

“So-so he’s in there? You can hear him?” Sam’s voice has so many feelings. 

“No, I can’t reach him. Not like I could when he reached out from under Michael. He’s in there, I think, but he’s scattered. I have nothing to reach for.” 

 _I’m in here!_ Dean screams. _I’m in here!_ But Cas doesn’t hear him. The slow circles in his hair continue, methodical and unchanged. 

~~~~ 

The car ride is agony. Dean isn’t sure how long it takes, but it feels like forever. He wants to tune out and forget, like he had momentarily when Cas had been silently beside him where they were before, but he can’t. With Cas’s hands permanently in contact with him and the eternal bumping of the car, he can’t manage it. It's probably a good thing. If he tuned out again, he might forget the little he’s managed to learn. He doesn’t want to forget Cas or Sam. He doesn’t want to forget himself. 

Finally, the car is stopping and Cas’s hands are sliding beneath him until he’s being supported and lifted by those soft, rigid objects. Dean knows they aren’t objects. They’re connected to Cas’s hands so they can’t be objects. What are connected to hands? Arms! Dean remembers triumphantly. Arms are connected to hands. He’s in Cas’s arms right now. 

Dean feels more certain that he’s a human now. He can’t move, but he can feel. He has arms like Cas does, and hands. His hands are currently bunched up awkwardly against himself, but he can feel one of them slipping as Cas’s smooth steps suddenly become bouncier and more jarring. One falls finally and it scrapes repeatedly against a cold, rough surface. He doesn’t like the feeling but he can’t do anything about it. He hopes Cas notices. 

Of course Cas notices. Dean feels his one arm pull him a little closer and it lifts his arm from the unpleasant surface. The loud, offensive feeling in his skin diminishes gradually to nothing but a buzzing that he wishes he could scratch.  

He isn’t in Cas’s arms much longer before he’s moving downward again, to settle on the softest surface he’s been on yet. It sinks beneath him until he feels wrapped in its curves. Dean thinks it’s a wonderful feeling. He wonders where he is. 

Cas is somewhere next to him, he thinks. He wishes he could see. 

Suddenly he feels pressure at the bottom of his body- his feet?- and hears a series of soft slipping sounds before his foot feels lighter and more exposed. He’s not sure what Cas did, which makes him anxious. Yes, that’s the word Cas had used. The same heart pounding sensation fills his chest and he begins to feel he's struggling. To do what, he can’t say, but his body is struggling, which makes his heart pound harder. 

“Dean?” Cas asks. “Dean are you alright?” 

He can’t answer and he wants to, so badly. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say or what Cas expects but he wants to say something. His body feels like it’s working too hard and can’t keep up but he isn’t doing anything. 

Cas’s hand is on his face then, and it’s soft and rough at the same time and Dean feels it scratch against his rough skin. Is skin rough? He has a beard! The thought comes to him as Cas’s hand continues to smooth against his skin as he makes ‘shh-ing’ sounds. He has a nice voice and it makes Dean feel safe. The struggling feeling isn’t quite so powerful anymore. 

“I’m just taking your shoes off, Dean.” Cas tells him quietly. “You don’t like shoes in your bed. They’re covered in germs.” 

A bed. Germs. Shoes. Cas teaches him so many things. If Cas thinks he wouldn’t like having shoes in his bed, then Cas should take the other one off. Cas does. Dean would think Cas was reading his mind if he hadn’t already said he couldn’t. 

 _Scattered._ That’s what Cas had called his mind. Where is it all? Where was it scattered to? 

Cas covers him with something warm and soft. He’s in a bed, which makes this warm soft thing a blanket, Dean thinks. He’s getting better at this. 

A creaking sound beside him startles Dean momentarily, but it lasts only briefly and then Cas is speaking. 

“You came back to me, but I’m not certain this counts. I can’t talk with you, or learn from you, or kiss you.” 

 _Kiss._ Dry, warm, patient lips. Insistent, aggressive lips. Dean can feel both. He likes the former better. It makes more sense with the safe feeling. Cas means safety. 

“You’ve been possessed for 8 months and 23 days. We’d been tracking Michael the best we could without much luck, but then he got a little sloppy. I think that might have been you. It was about the time you first called out to me and I think you were wearing Michael down. Distracting him.” 

 _Possessed. Michael. Who’s Michael?_ ‘The Impala is worn down but I keep her going.’ That’s The Car, Dean is sure of it. He feels worn down, but Cas seems intent on keeping him going, too.

“Michael left a trail of bodies and disasters in his wake during that final struggle. Sam followed it while I kept reaching out. It might have felt like minutes to you, but it was days. I stayed with you in your mind while you fought. As long as you remained enough yourself, I could stay with you. Michael’s fury was too great though, and I couldn’t stay to the end, as I’d wanted. He would have destroyed me before you succeeded.” 

 _Cas sitting beside him in the wooden chair, watching, waiting._ Dean can see the chair in his mind. Old, rickety, and uncomfortable looking. Exactly the type of chair that would have squeaked when a man sat in it. That chair isn’t as close to the bed as Dean wishes it were, which means Cas is farther than he would like. He can’t do anything about it. 

“You toppled a small forest when you expelled him. A few hikers were hurt. I didn’t want to tell you that but I know you’ll find out when you-if you wake up, so it’s better to tell you now. If you can hear me.” 

 _I can hear you!_ The chair scratches against the floor and Dean hears Cas’s footsteps grow infinitesimally closer. His hand closes around Dean’s and something inside Dean sighs and relaxes. 

“It turns out Gabriel didn’t die. He used most of his remaining grace on a final trick to sneak away. He’d been in hiding to let it recharge since. He managed to follow Michael to whatever new vessel he took and kill him while he was still weakened from his battle with you. He’s back in heaven now. Jack went with him for a bit to see if they can keep heaven together. I told Jack he didn’t need to, but I think he wanted to learn what the angels are like.” 

Dean can feel himself growing less alert, less tuned to the flow and logic of Cas’s story. He wants to keep listening but he can’t seem to stay focused. For once, he isn’t frightened of this mysterious event, but he’s regretful that Cas will be talking and no one will be listening. Despite his regret, he quickly slips away into nothingness.

~~~~ 

The world comes back to him slowly, in spurts of fuzzy noise. It takes him several minutes to acclimate to the world being around him once more. Where had it gone? Had he gone somewhere? 

“’I do not say that children at war do not die like men, if they have to die.’” Cas’s voice solidifies in the air of the room and Dean feels at ease. He realizes the soft bed is still engulfing him and he feels silly that he didn’t notice before. It doesn’t sound as though Cas is actually talking to him but Dean isn’t sure what he’s talking about. “’To their everlasting honor and our everlasting shame, they  _do_  die like men, thus making possible the manly jubilation of patriotic holidays. But they are murdered children all the same. And I propose to you that if we are to pay our sincere respects to the hundred lost children of San Lorenzo, that we might best spend the day despising what killed them; which is to say, the stupidity and viciousness of all mankind.’” 

It’s…familiar. The words mean something to Dean beyond their existence in Cas’s voice. He speaks on and Dean listens intently, hoping that something will spark a memory in him, as “worn down” had reminded him of the Impala. Cas continues and Dean falls into a drifting haze where the sentences float through his conscious until he realizes he’s reciting the words alongside Cas’s gentle cadence. It’s from a book, he feels sure of it. Hopefully if Cas reads it long enough, he’ll remember the name. 

A soft knocking noise comes from farther away in the room and Dean hears a soft creak. 

“Can I come in?” It's Sam. 

“Of course, Sam. Did you want to spend some time alone with him?” 

Unless he had come in while Dean had mysteriously disappeared for a while, Sam hadn’t spent any time with him without Cas. 

Sam cleared his throat. “No, um, that’s okay. I actually need your help.” 

“With what?” 

“We need to try to get him to eat something. And we need to figure out how to, you know, clean him up and stuff. He can’t use the bathroom.” 

“I have been doing that. With my grace.” 

The bathroom? Apparently, it was something he was supposed to need. He’d have to try to remember what that involved too. 

“Um, okay. That works I guess. But we still need to see if we can get him to eat. If we can’t, we’re going to have to take him to the hospital.” 

The hospital. The word gives him a bad feeling and Dean feels his heart speed up. He's beginning to hate this response.

“Dean, the hospital is only if you can’t help.” Cas’s hand is holding his own again and Dean calms down. “That’s better.” 

“So he can hear us.” 

“It would appear so. He also seems aware of what’s happening to him. He panicked last night when I tried taking his shoes off, but he calms down if you explain what’s happening.” 

“But he can’t do anything?” Sam asks. 

“It doesn’t seem like it. But I also haven’t tried much. Perhaps if we sit him up and ask him to, he may be able to swallow.” 

“Okay, well we’ve gotta try. I made a milkshake and blended some vitamin mix and protein powder into it for some extra nutrients. Can you sit him up against the wall?” 

“Of course.” 

Cas’s arms are slipping beneath him once again and then Dean feels his back leaning against a hard surface. The wall, as Sam had said. He knows his head isn’t staying upright and its very uncomfortable. He wishes his body would do what he wanted. 

There's a good deal of pressing and prodding before Cas and Sam finally have him upright properly, held in place by Cas’s arms and masses of pillows. Something hard and cold presses against his lips. Dean is fairly certain it’s the milkshake but he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with it. 

“Okay, Dean. I’m gonna try and open your mouth a little, okay?”  

Gentle fingers grip his jaw and pull it open wide enough to slip the cold substance inside. It's smooth and soft, with a pleasant, mellow flavor. Dean lets it sit in his mouth for a while as he contemplates the sensation of the milkshake on his tongue before it starts dripping down the back of his throat uncomfortably and he realizes there's a crucial step he isn’t getting. 

“He’s not swallowing, Sam. He’s going to choke if he doesn’t swallow.”

Oh, swallowing. How is he supposed to do that? The milkshake continues to drop down the back of his throat when something suddenly happens. His throat convulses and he feels the liquid disappearing down into the depths of his chest. 

A surprised laugh erupts from Sam’s side of the bed. “He did it!” 

“He did.” Cas answers. “That was good, Dean.” 

Dean feels oddly happy at the shy compliment. He wants more of them, so he's just going to have to keep doing better. 

Finishing the milkshake is more difficult than he expected, though. He manages to accidentally swallow three more spoonfuls before finally achieving the action intentionally, but six small portions after that, his stomach begins protesting. The milkshake stops settling so nicely and he feels vaguely nauseas. Sam continues to gently open his mouth, Dean continues to swallow, and his stomach continues to protest. He knows he should be able to control this but he can't figure out how. A burning sensation is beginning to rise up from his stomach and his heart hammers in his chest. Sam puts another spoonful to his mouth and he steals himself to swallow when Cas speaks. 

"I think you should stop, Sam." 

"How do you know?"

"I can't quite tell, but I think he's uncomfortable."

"You're probably right. He wouldn't have eaten at all when he was possessed, so he's probably full. I'll go put this back in the freezer for later." 

"Should I lay him back down?" Cas sounds uncertain. Dean isn't comfortable sitting like this, but something in him knows he doesn't want to lay down yet. 

"Maybe try keeping him up a bit longer if you can? I did some research and it said being upright can be good for people with brain injuries." 

"Sam." Cas's voice is quiet, tentative. Dean imagines he's probably trying to say something difficult, though he's not sure how he knows that. "This isn't a brain injury. His brain is fine. He's just…not in there correctly." 

"It's the best I've got, Cas. If you can't heal him, we've got to try anything we can find." There's anger in Sam's voice that Dean hasn't heard yet, but he's not sure where it's coming from. 

Dean feels his chest constrict, but he knows the pain isn't from the food this time. He isn't right. He doesn't know what he's supposed to be like, but obviously what he is right now isn't it. Sam shouldn't be spoon feeding him and Cas shouldn't be cleaning him up and neither of them should be having to think about when he'll wake up. He wants to wake up, he really does, but who is he supposed to be if he does that? What if he wakes up and he's not who they're expecting? He knows he's Dean, but who is Dean? Who is Dean to Sam and Cas? 

The door shuts abruptly, startling Dean from his broken thoughts, and Cas sighs beside him. The puff of air tickles the hairs above his ear and Dean realizes Cas has turned to face him. Dean wonders what he looks like. A flash of blue eyes plays in his mind for a tiny moment and then they're gone. Dean tries his best to hold onto it. 

"Your brother blames me for letting this happen to you. I told him what happened, when you said 'yes' to Michael, but he thinks I didn't try hard enough to stop you. He doesn't know I tried the hardest thing I could think of." Cas's voice is low and regretful, and Dean feels tears pressing at the back of his eyes as he's inexplicably filled with sadness. "I told you how I feel Dean. I showed you. I knew it wouldn't stop you, but I hoped it would help you back." 

What did he show me? _Lips pressed to his, warm and dry. Relief overtook him and he pressed back, for just a moment._ He can't see the memory, but he feels it. New, yet familiar. Longing overcomes him and the pressure behind his eyes finally spills over. Wetness drifts down his cheeks. 

"Dean?" Cas turns towards him more fully and Dean feels himself begin to tip over before Cas catches him with strong arms. 

He can't answer, but the tears begin falling more quickly. He wishes he knew where all these feelings were coming from, but he thinks he's at least beginning to understand. Cas loves him. He's fairly certain he loves Cas. Dean wishes he could say it. 

Cas brushes the tears off his face with something soft and they sit together for a long while until Sam comes back and Dean eats more milkshake. 

~~~~ 

It goes this way for a few of what Dean comes to realize are days. Cas helps him with that. Once he seems to fully realize Dean can hear him, Cas takes to telling him everything. The date, the time, the weather, which of what are apparently his favorite movies are on TV. Dean still feels like a puzzle with most of the pieces missing, but Cas is gradually returning them one by one to the box. 

Most of the time he's in the room, he's reading. It takes Dean a day or two but he finally remembers the name of the book. _Cat's Cradle_ by Kurt Vonnegut. Apparently, it's his favorite, or so Cas tells him once he finally finishes it. Dean missed a few sections here or there when Cas accidentally started reading while he was asleep, but he can understand why. The words make him feel a little more whole. 

Sam doesn't spend as much time with him, but he's not sure why. They're clearly very close. Sam knows all his favorite flavors and regularly promises he can have some pie once he figures out how to chew again. Dean has finally remembered what chewing is, but he can't figure out how to accomplish it yet. He's getting tired of milkshakes and rice pudding, no matter how much love Sam clearly puts into them. 

On the fifth day, Cas asks Sam if he wants to read to Dean for a little while, but Sam declines. Dean can hear the discomfort in his voice and it makes his stomach squirm. Why doesn't Sam want to be with him? Cas must feel his sadness, or whatever it is he does. 

"I think he doesn't know how to see you like this. He’s used to you caring for him.” 

Dean can’t imagine having ever taken care of anyone. 

~~~~ 

On the seventh day, Dean manages to stay sitting on his own while Sam feeds him. He’s sure Cas can tell, but Cas continues to pretend to hold him up anyway. Dean doesn’t know why. Maybe Cas just wants the contact. Maybe Sam will stop helping him eat if he knows Dean doesn’t need as much help. Dean does know he likes being held. 

Cas carries him out of his room for the first time the next day. The ride doesn’t last long before he’s being placed in a chair with a high back and rough upholstery. Before Dean has the presence of mind to hold himself up, the chair is tipping back and his legs are rising up. It’s comfortable. He’s sort of upright with much less work. 

“This is your bat cave, Dean. You put it together not long before you were possessed. We used to watch movies in here, after we came back from the other universe.” 

Other universe? 

 _Grey terrain and soot-filled skies stretched ominously before him. A blinding zipper of light flared behind him as he watched a dark haired man stalk away from him, into the barren terrain. He yelled for him, over and over, but someone pulled him back, towards the light and away from the man. Dean didn’t want to leave, he knew as much as that, but he didn’t know more. The dark haired man turned towards him just before he stepped into the strip of light. Blue eyes. Cas!_  

So that was Cas. He was beautiful. Dean wants to see him now, but he still can’t open his eyes. If he can’t speak, Dean wishes he could at least see. Light is starting to filter in through his eyelids. Soon, he thinks. Hopefully, soon. 

“This is the TV we bought when all the people from the alternate universe were here. Gabriel helped send them back after he killed Michael. I know you would have liked to say goodbye, but they needed to fix their world.” 

Dean listens as Cas putters around with something in front of him. 

“We’re going to watch Tombstone, Dean. It’s one of your favorites. I would say hopefully a ghost doesn’t suck us in, but I think you would love that even more than Scooby Doo. Sam would worry, though.” 

Dean hears Cas settle down beside him but he can’t feel him. All he feels are the upholstered arms of the chair he’s in. Why don’t they own a couch? He can sit up just fine but he wants to lean on Cas. This is stupid. 

“What’s the matter, Dean? Was Tombstone the wrong choice?” 

Cas sounds defeated. Dean has no idea if Tombstone was the wrong choice. He can’t remember. But he knows that’s not why he’s upset. He itches to be able to tell Cas he didn’t do anything wrong, that he just hates these armchairs. All he wants is for Cas to be closer. Cas is upset because he’s upset but he can’t calm down. Every inch of him is itching and Dean desperately wants to reach and scratch. 

The sensation overwhelms him until Dean realizes he’s moving. Barely at all, but moving still. Just enough to flip his hand over where it rests on the chair arm. He feels a rush of sensation as the rough fabric scratches against the skin of his forearm with the motion. His muscles protest and quiver as if he were attempting to lift a massive weight. 

“Oh!” Cas exclaims, his voice coming out in a reverent breath. Dean’s heart pounds faster and faster in anticipation. If Cas does what he hopes, it will be their first time touching outside of necessity; outside of Dean being Cas’s ward. 

Fingertips brush lightly, tentatively against his palm and Dean’s head feels light with excitement. Cas’s fingers skirt lightly up his palm until they slot in between his own, strong and steady. They’re only connected by the single point of contact, but Dean feels safe. He imagines what Cas's face looks like as he looks at their joined hands. Dean imagines there's a hint of awe mixed with uncertainty in his eyes as he wonders whether this is real; excitement mixed with tenderness as the realization that Dean can move merges with bashful hope at this development in whatever their relationship is. 

Dean is paying absolutely no attention to "Tombstone," his mind solely tuned to the weight of Cas's hand in his.  He allows the itch to grow under his skin intensely enough until he builds the focus required to squeeze his fingers. The motion is brief and weak, but he feels the tips of his fingers brush against Cas's knuckles. Cas squeezes back. 

"I miss you, Dean." 

Dean doesn't miss Cas. He doesn't know what to miss. 

_I’m your Huckleberry._

_How long was I gone? Too damn long._

_I'd rather have you, cursed or not._

_I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you._  

"Dean!"

Cas's hand was still in his, while his other was on Dean's shoulder. The touch was fiery on his skin and memories of surging forth through the molten ground, guided by black wings, rose to the forefront of his mind. With a jolt, Dean's eyes shot open and he finds himself staring into the blue eyes of his first memory of Cas. 

"Hello, Dean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is already underway, so stay tuned!
> 
> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Order Processing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting angsty folks. There's some good Winchester Bros feels though :) Some new tags have been added so check those please!

Cas looks just like his memory told him he would: dark, messy hair, expressive blue eyes, wide shoulders drowning in an oversized trench coat. Right now, his eyes are wide and his lips hang slack with surprise. It seems like surprise, anyway. Dean is surprised. 

His shoulder still burns and Dean doesn’t fully understand why. What were the wings he’d seen in his mind when Cas had first touched him there? 

They remain silent for a while, simply staring at one another and absorbing the moment. Cas is staring into his eyes like he’d forgotten what color they were but Dean somehow knows that’s impossible. He wants to shy away from the intense scrutiny but he still can’t move on his own and Cas seems happy to look at him forever. 

Dean can feel his eyes beginning to burn with dryness and he blinks rapidly. The sudden flutter of motion seems to break Cas from his trance and he leans minutely out of Dean’s space. 

“Are you back, Dean?” 

He tries to open his mouth to speak but can’t. He tries something simpler by just humming in affirmative, as he’s heard Cas and Sam do to one another, but he can’t do that either. Dean can only do one thing. He blinks. 

Cas frowns and Dean wishes he could smack him over the head. It’s a simple solution. 

“Can you blink once for yes, and twice for no?” Oh, thank God. 

Dean blinks once, carefully and slowly. Cas’s lips split into a wide, grateful smile and Dean’s heart hammers in his chest. 

“That’s good, Dean. Do you remember who you are?” 

Dean pauses. He knows his name, but that’s not really who he is. Cas frowns at the delay. 

“Do you understand what I’m asking?” 

One blink. 

“Okay, well. Three blinks if you don’t know how to answer.” 

Three blinks. 

Cas’s frown grows deeper. 

“Do you know who I am?” 

Three blinks. Dean wants to cry when Cas’s eyes grow cloudy and distant. 

“Do you know my name?” He sounds like he doesn’t want to ask. 

One blink brings a tentative upward curve back to his lips. 

“Do you know what you mean to me?” 

Dean instinctively clamps down on Cas’s hand, even though his muscles scream at the effort. Cas squeezes back just as tight. Dean blinks once and Cas’s shoulders sag in relief, as though it was the single most important piece of information to him.

Dean must have guessed right because Cas doesn’t ask any more questions. He wants to tell Cas what’s happening in his head but he can’t and so he’s grateful the questions stop. Exhaustion overcomes him once it’s clear they’re done for the moment and his eyes begin to slip shut, but Cas panics and squeezes his hand painfully.

“Dean?” He opens his eyes wearily. “Are you alright?” One blink. “Do you want to go back to bed?” One blink. “Alright.” 

He’s asleep again before he’s even in Cas’s arms. 

~~~~ 

The memory foam has swallowed him whole when Dean finally wakes. The darkness frightens him and he wonders why the lights are out. He wants Cas to come turn them on so he can see his room. Turn the sound of the creaky wooden chair into a visual reality. See the blankets Cas tucks tenderly around him every night. 

Why isn’t Cas here? He never wakes alone. 

Sound begins filtering in through his post-sleep haze. It’s voices and though they're muffled by the thick walls, Dean can tell they're angry. 

"He's Dean in there, Sam." 

"He's not Dean, you said so yourself." 

"I didn't say that. I said he was scattered. But he's not as much anymore. He knows who I am!" 

"Sort of, Castiel. Sort of. " 

Castiel. So Cas is a nickname. Dean's fairly certain he gave it to him, and he likes the feeling that gives him. 

"You can't know for sure until you see him, Sam. He'll want to see you." 

Dean does, he really does. Sam is his brother apparently and Dean wants a face for his brother. 

"Let him show you who he is." 

"Fine Cas." 

Dean listens as footsteps echo closer down the hall before they come to a stop and his door opens slowly. He watches as the strip of light widens gradually on his wall until the light switch clicks softly and the room is bathed in light. The abrupt change stings his eyes and he squeezes them shut, entranced by the dancing spots that fill his vision. Sam must notice because he apologizes sheepishly. 

"Sorry. I forgot to warn you." 

The chair doesn't creak with the telltale signs of a body stressing its joints and Dean feels awkward knowing Sam is just standing somewhere near the door. He forces his eyes open against the light fraction by fraction until he can see Sam through his lashes. 

Sam is tall. It's the first thing Dean registers, and he finds himself having to adjust to the significantly different angle from Cas, especially since Cas always sits. Once he gets used to that, Dean can see Sam's orange flannel, long brown hair, and hazel eyes. He looks exhausted, the skin beneath his eyes purple and thin looking. Dean wonders if Cas would look the same he wasn't…whatever he is. 

"Good morning, Dean." Sam says awkwardly. "Cas said you can answer some yes, no, maybe questions?" 

Dean blinks. 

"Okay, uh, that's good. That's really good. Do you, uh, know my name?" Blink. "Do you know who I am?" Blink blink blink. "Do you want to know more?" Blink. 

Sam bites his lip and Dean watches his eyes flit between the bed, the wall, and the chair. After a few painful, indecisive moments, he strides towards the chair and settles in it. He looks uncomfortable but doesn't make an effort to stand again. 

"Well, uh. I'm your little brother. 4 years younger. Our mom was murdered when I was a baby, and our dad raised us. Only he didn't really. You raised me and yourself, while dad turned us into hunters. Bobby tried to help raise us too. He was like a second dad." 

Dean watches Sam out of the corner of his eyes, unable to move his head to face him directly. He's enthralled by the variety of expressions that cross his face as he tells Dean anecdote after anecdote about their childhood. A shy, sad smile lifts his cheeks when he talks about a girl named Jessica. A fond, lonely look fills his eyes when he talks about Bobby. Frustration mixed with regret furrows his brow when he talks about their dad. It all sounds familiar, but not like his life, but Dean waits. He knows if he just waits long enough, something will spark a memory. 

When Sam mentions falling into the pit, it happens. 

 _He sits, collapsed against the hard doors of the Impala, his face bruised and swollen from his brother's fists, watching as Sam falls into the gaping hole in the ground. Sam's cries merge with Lucifer's while they battle fruitlessly for control as they plummet towards the cage. All is silent when the ground closes above them and Dean is alone. Sam is gone and he's failed. He couldn't take care of him, couldn't protect him. What had he spent all his life doing if he couldn't keep Sammy safe. Cas just poured salt on the wound. Freedom or peace. He couldn't have both. He'd lost Sam to keep his freedom, but what was the point of freedom if he was alone?  Cas disappeared without a word, and then he was really all by himself._  

"Hey, Dean. Dean. What is it?" 

Sam's gentle, giant hands are on his face, brushing away tears that are travelling down his cheeks and along the crook of his jaw.  He's kneeling beside the bed now and Dean desperately wants to turn to him, engage with his brother in more than blinks. With a strain beyond words he turns his head until he can meet Sam's eyes straight on. It's painful, his neck not having moved in a week. He's sure he'll get stuck this way if Sam doesn't help him put his head back straight. The pain drains away as he watches the wonder fill Sam's face as his little brother realizes something tiny yet momentous has happened. 

"Did you remember something?" 

Blink. 

A small, hysterical chuckle erupts from Sam's mouth and Dean thinks it's the first time he's seen the younger man properly smile, with all his teeth, in this whole morning. He sits silently for a while after his laugh fades and Dean wonders what he's thinking about. Also, his neck is starting to hurt. Sam finally speaks again but it's not what he expects. 

"You know I love you, right?" 

He wants to blink once, because the answer is yes, but he can't. He needs to know why Sam has been treating him the way he has. Three blinks. Sam sighs. 

"I do, Dean. I love you more than anything, but I'm so scared. I could barely take care of myself when you were gone. I don't know how I'm supposed to take care of both of us. And I-I don't know what's going to happen to Cas if you don't get better. He goes off the deep end when you're not okay. What if I'm left taking care of you, him, and Jack? I'm not a father, Dean. I'm not a caregiver. That was always you. I don't know if I have that in me." 

Dean personally thinks Sam has it in him. He doesn't know how he knows, but he's certain that Sam can do it. That doesn't mean Dean wants that to happen though. His neck is very uncomfortable now, and he would very much like to be able to take care of himself. 

Cas appears in the doorway then, holding a bowl of something. Sam looks over at him and clears his throat aggressively. 

"What's up, Cas?" 

"I brought him some oatmeal for breakfast." Cas finally looks over at him from Sam and his eyes widen. "Did you move his head like that?" 

Sam's answering smile is a little giddy and Dean feels proud. "Nope. He did that on his own." 

"I'm glad you came in to talk with him." 

"Me too." 

This is very cute, but Dean's neck is really starting to hurt. Can they please sit him up already? 

"Here, hold this and I'll get him up." 

"Why don't we take him to the kitchen to eat? You were saying he can keep himself upright now and it would probably do him some good to see the rest of the bunker.”  

"Of course, Sam." 

Cas lifts Dean into his arms with ease and Dean stares back as the man smiles down at him. "You get to see your home today, Dean." 

The bunker, his home, is dim and Dean isn't sure why at first, but he gradually realizes it's because there are no windows. Why doesn't his home have windows? The next thing he notices is how bare the walls are. The bunker has no personality, Dean decides. Cas passes a room full of tables and shelves of books and Dean feels his whole body go rigid as his eyes clamp shut. 

 _Cas's skin tears beneath his knuckles, bones crack beneath his own. Violent, wrathful energy pulses through his blood, originating from its burning core on his forearm. He's on top of Cas, bloody and half conscious, telling him to stop but there's no resolve in his voice. He doesn't think Dean will stop, can stop. He's prepared to die as Dean grasps the angel blade with violent conviction. Dean sees a weariness in the angel's eyes, tired, oh so tired, of this battle to bring Dean back to himself. Dean is tired, too. Tired of fighting the burning fire in his veins calling out for him to do despicable things, but this is Cas. Dean can't be tired yet. The Mark wants him to bring the blade down, snuff out the bright light within his best friend, the bright light remaining within himself. His arm pulls down and the blade lands._  

"Ahh!" The scream tears out of Dean's throat as he comes back to himself and feels that molten, mutinous hatred roar inside is bones for just one, horrible moment. The pain is so intense he can do nothing but cry in paralyzed agony. It's nothing like the pain he'd felt rising through the ground on Cas's wings. That pain had been tempered by some nebulous understanding that it would end soon. This was different. In this memory, there was no end in sight. The pain was clawing deeper and deeper, burning steadily hotter. Destroying his insides like a cancerous growth. 

Cas's arms are tugging him in closer until his forehead and nose are cradled soundly in the crook of the angel's neck. That's what Cas is. An angel. Dean does his best to hold onto that part of the memory, the only good part, in which he knew Cas would do anything for him. The part where his love for Cas was just strong enough to fight back the malignant anger within him. He still doesn’t know how that love came to be, but he knows it's there, feels it in the truth of this memory. He grasps desperate hold of it as Cas breathes gentle shushes into his hair. 

His muscles are trembling and his throat hurts as he comes back down from the memory. His face falls heavily on the wrinkled collar of Cas's shirt as he deliberates whether he wants to open his eyes again. It's clear that much has happened in this place he calls home. Can he handle the onslaught of seeing it all at once? 

"Do you want to go back to your room, Dean?" It's Sam, and he's very close. Dean can feel the heat of his body radiating in the cool air around them. He opens his eyes slowly to find that his brother has positioned himself so that all Dean can see are him and Cas. Sam is smart, Dean realizes. 

He takes stock of himself before answering. The pain has passed and while his body is still quaking in fear and panic, he realizes that his body is in fact moving, albeit not exactly within his control. He takes it for progress. Finally, he notices the cramping hole he feels within his core and remembers that he's hungry. He wants to eat, and he wants to eat in the kitchen. Blink blink. 

"You still want to go to the kitchen?" Sam clarifies. Blink. "Alright." 

Dean closes his eyes the rest of the trip. He feels certain more memories will come once they've reached their destination, but he doesn’t want more flashbacks waylaying his journey to food. 

Once he feels himself settled into a hard-backed chair with his forearms arranged nicely on the chair arms does he open his eyes. The kitchen is bare and utilitarian, but he feels at peace here, among its hard chrome appliances and tile walls. He sits directly facing a shining metal island with nothing on it. Pots and pans sit atop a shelf over the stove and he itches to use them. If he has more flashbacks, Dean senses they're more likely to be positive memories. 

Sam and Cas sit on either side of him. Cas feeds him the oatmeal, sweetened with something chocolatey, while Sam talks. 

"You used to cook in here all the time, you know? Burgers were your specialty, but you made all sorts of stuff. I remember the first meal we had here. We didn't even get to finish it properly, because we got a lead, but it was the best burger I'd ever had. I brought it with me in the Impala and you got mad at me when I got crumbs on the seat." Sam releases a fond huff of laughter. 

 _He was trying a new recipe for these burgers. Something he'd never made for Lisa and Ben. Something new to coronate their new home. He wasn't going to let on to Sammy that he was disappointed if he didn't like it, but he really hoped he did. The smell of beef and spices filled up the sterile, impersonal kitchen. Dean wishes the walls weren't tile so he could fill the room with the permanent sense of being used for its purpose. He would just have to cook often enough that the smells never got to fully fade. He thinks if he didn't have to hunt, he might open a restaurant. He would be good at that. He had business sense and creativity to spare. He wonders absentmindedly if Cas would be willing to help him run a restaurant. Maybe just be his taste-tester. Sam likes the burgers, and Dean watches his little brother eat with enjoyment as he chews his own food proudly._  

"He's chewing!" 

Dean blinks in surprise at the abrupt exclamation, only to quickly realize that he is, indeed, chewing. Not that there's much of oatmeal to chew, but he's doing it all the same. 

"Let's make him some real food." Cas suggested. "An egg sandwich?" 

"Sure, sure. Gimme a couple minutes." 

Dean watches in rapture as Sam lights the stove and sets to making a fried egg, before placing two pieces of bread in the toaster. 

"Do you remember cooking, Dean?" Cas asks from beside him. He blinks. "I might be biased, but your cooking is my favorite. 

He feels heat rush to his cheeks at the compliment and he realizes he's blushing. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Cas staring at the color there, a look of amazement on his face. With a great effort, Dean manages to turn his head to look at Cas more full on. The eye contact is overwhelming from this close, and Dean finds his gaze flitting across Cas's features. He's vaguely aware Cas is doing the same. 

 _Cas is sitting across from him, drinking a beer. He's trying his hardest not to focus on the way the angel handles his bottle, angles his body towards Dean, looks up at him with mischief in his eyes. He tries to focus on Sam's words, the case, but tuning out the occasional brush of Cas's knee against his thigh is like trying to pretend he doesn't imagine Cas holding him like he's holding his drink. His blood pounds when Cas starts talking about April and he curses himself when he brings up their one-night stand. He finds himself leaning in, wanting to be more in his angel's space, clapping a hand to his shoulder to create distance before it's too late._  

"What are you doing, Dean?" Cas's hand is pressed to his chest and he's speaking in a hoarse whisper.

Dean's eyes flutter open and he finds that he's begun leaning out of his chair towards Cas. They're mere inches apart and he's bracing his torso with a hand on Cas's thigh. The color that's still sitting high in his cheeks grows deeper and he feels it spread to the tips of his ears. Cas looks overwhelmed, desperate, conflicted. In the corners of his vision, Dean sees with relief that Sam is still obliviously cooking his egg and not witnessing whatever this is that's happening. Cas pushes him away gently, settling him back in his chair before leaning stiffly back into his own. 

Flustered thoughts rush through him as they wait in awkward silence for Sam to finish making his breakfast. That memory was old, Dean can tell somehow, and yet he and Cas were still only here, sharing shy compliments and tentative touches. He understands, of course. He can't speak and he can barely move, so naturally there are boundaries that should exist, but had he really not acted on feelings as strong as he'd felt in that memory? 

"Alright, Dean. Your first real breakfast." Sam's voice breaks him from his reverie as he places a small plate before him. The sandwich is simple. An English muffin with a fried egg and slice of cheese, but Dean's mouth waters at the promise of solid food. He chews on air a few times in preparation before awkwardly opening his mouth as wide as he can get it, which is admittedly not very far. Sam shoves a small portion of the sandwich between his teeth with little finesse and Dean bites down with all his might. It takes him a few tries to successfully complete the tasks, but he gets it eventually. The flavor is incredible and he closes his eyes happily as he works the food around in his mouth. 

Chewing is awkward and exhausting. He bites his tongue more times than he can count, but Cas is kind enough to heal the sting every time he does it. Eventually, though, he gets the whole sandwich down and feels fit to burst with happiness. When he sees the hopefully, enraptured smiles on Cas and Sam's faces, Dean realizes he's smiling. His cheeks tremble with the effort, but he likes the warm feeling that brews in his chest from it. 

~~~~ 

It progresses this way for another week. Cas continues to carry him around the bunker, Sam continues to make him easy meals, and he keeps remembering. Some of the memories are pleasant, some are confusing, and some are downright traumatic. His first memory of Hell leaves him shaking like a leaf and completely unwilling to interact with anyone for most of the day. It only passes when Sam suggests giving him a warm bath, because that's what their mom used to do when he had nightmares. Cas leaves him as he is, in his boxers and an undershirt, but does as is suggested. The hot water surrounds his exhausted, trembling body and Dean lets his head fall against the rim of the bath as Cas smooths a wet cloth over his arms and face, cleansing the fear sweat from his skin. 

When the water grows too cold and Cas moves to lift him from the tub, Dean flings his arms around the angel's neck and sobs into his coat. Cas holds him close with one arm and strokes his damp hair with the other. 

"You aren't there anymore. Ssh ssh, Dean. You aren't there. You're here with me. I raised you from Hell a long time ago. You're safe, you're safe." 

The rim digs into Dean's ribs but the cold pressure is a welcome reality from the depths of the flashback. He listens to Cas's persistent assurances and becomes aware that he's babbling into the angel's shoulder. His voice is harsh and jagged, barely audible in how weak and unused it is over his hysterical sobs. 

"Get me out. Get me out. Someone help me. I can't take it anymore. Alastair, I don't want to. Save me." 

He doesn't stop until he falls asleep from exhaustion. 

~~~~ 

Dean wakes the next morning with Castiel lying beside him on his small double bed. This was something he hadn't done before and Dean looks at him in confusion. 

"You wouldn't let go." Cas answers, gesturing vaguely to Dean's arm around his waist. "I could have removed it, but you seemed in need of the comfort." 

He looks down at where he's gripping Cas remarkably tightly for someone who's lost most of his muscle mass. Briefly he wonders whether he should feel embarrassed but he decides it's not worth it. A thought occurs to him at he looks down towards the foot of the bed with concern in his eyes, but Cas chuckles softly. 

"I took my shoes off, don't worry." 

Dean looks back up at the angel and smiles fondly. He takes such good care of Dean. None of his flashbacks have helped him remember what he's possibly done to deserve such love, but Cas doesn't question it, and so he doesn't. 

"Do you remember speaking, yesterday?" Cas's voice is soft, a gentle rumble that Dean feels in his toes. 

He does remember. He wishes he didn't remember why he had been speaking, but he remembers finally being able to form words. Sometimes the things he's able to do during flashbacks stick, sometimes they don't come back permanently until a few days later, like the day he'd tried kissing Cas during breakfast. Try as he had, Dean hadn't been able to voluntarily move his trunk until two days later when he'd leaned forward to prevent a dribble of toothpaste from falling on his shirt while Sam brushed his teeth for the first time. 

It appeared that speaking would be the latter. Try as he might, Dean can't create a sound. He opens and closes his mouth several times with no success until his face contorts in frustration and he beats on Cas's chest with petulant, weak fists until his atrophied muscles shake with exertion. 

Cas's palm cups his cheek soothingly. "It's alright, Dean. It will come." 

Dean releases a frustrated huff, but concedes to his failure for the time being. 

~~~~ 

Later that day, following another bath which he has come to realize are quite enjoyable, Cas places him in a chair to dry him off. Dean catches a glimpse of himself in a far-off mirror and he realizes he hasn't seen himself yet. He taps Cas weakly to get his attention and points to the floor length mirror. 

"You want to see yourself?" Cas asks. The concern in his voice grates at Dean's nerves and he frowns, blinking once aggressively. 

With a sigh, Cas moves another chair to rest before the mirror and then carries Dean from his chair to the other. 

He knows what he's supposed to look like. He's had enough flashbacks and nebulous remembrances to know what the old Dean Winchester looked like, pre-possession. This is not that Dean. 

His hair is longer, grown out awkwardly in a way the cut wasn't intended. His skin is pale from lack of movement, time outside, and proper nourishment. His eyes are dark and sunken, surrounded by purple bruises despite the fact that he's been sleeping well. His face is smooth, because Sam has been keeping him shaved, but this only allows Dean to see the deep cut of his cheekbones against his skin, sharp and obvious in comparison to his old, softer face. 

The biggest change is his body though. He knew he was weak and he'd casually noticed his limbs didn't fill out his clothes as they once had, but seeing himself head on and naked was an alien experience. His shoulders were sharp and sunken, bony and fragile in places they had once been firm and strong. Ribs formed mountains and valleys across his torso, where they met his soft, toneless belly.  His forearms where they rested on the chair were thin and limp where they'd once been capable and broad from hours under the hood of the Impala and combat practice with Sam. 

Worst of all were his legs. His legs which had carried him through police chases, wendigo hunts, escapes from the Darkness, passionate nights in bed, his flaming home with Sammy in his arms. These legs could do none of those things. These legs are thin and frail and his bones stretch prominently through his skin where they had once been hidden beneath muscle. These legs are not his. 

Gritting his teeth Dean reaches out to the cabinet beside him, grabs a can of something, and hurls it at the mirror with an anguished yell. He isn't even strong enough to break the mirror and the can rolls innocuously across the tiled floor back towards his feet. Dean hangs his head and cries. He's tired of crying. 

Cas places a hand on his shoulder and Dean knows it's meant for comfort, but he's suddenly embarrassed to have Cas see him this way, impotent and small. He shakes the hand away with as much force as he can manage and then folds his legs up onto the chair and hugs them, hiding his face in his knees. Cas doesn't try to touch him again but he doesn't leave either. Tension builds inside him the longer the angel stays until Dean can't handle it any longer. 

"Go away." He croaks. It makes his throat hurt, especially as the words fight their way through his gasping sobs, but he says them again, with more force. "Go away! Go away!" 

He doesn't watch Cas leave, but he's sure from the cadence of his steps that his shoulders are slumped and his jaw is tight. Tears may even be gathering in his eyes, but Dean doesn't know. He hates that those were his first words. He'd wanted them to be something else. 

~~~~ 

The effort of holding himself in that position overwhelms him eventually and Dean sags in on himself, letting his legs fall limply back to the floor where he leans heavily on his knees. That's how Sam finds him, sometime later, and while Dean wishes he could just be alone for a while, he's grateful it's Sam instead of Cas. 

"Okay, I'm not gonna be as good at this as Cas, but here we go." Sam lifts Dean's body up and out of the chair. Dean knows his brother is strong, but the process is significantly slower and more awkward than with Cas. Sam is breathing more heavily by the time they finally make it back to his room. His brother dresses him in soft sweats and a long-sleeved shirt and Dean is grateful he can stop staring at his emaciated body. Once he's settled back in bed, Sam sits in the wood chair with the now familiar creak. He seems to ponder his words for a while with a series of frowns and sighs before finally speaking.

"You know, I don't have any way of understanding what's happening in your mind right now, or even how you're experiencing this process. All I can imagine is how difficult this is for you. What I do know, is that you tackle everything with a give em hell attitude, and I want you to try and do the same with this." 

 _"Because if you go back, you are not going to be the same and life is going to be very hard for you."_  

The entirety of his interaction with Billie in the Veil comes back to him and Dean closes his eyes in reverence. Up until now, he was wandering through this experience unguided and lost, but now he has a roadmap, or a sort of one. He knew this would happen, going in. He chose to come back to this and if he can just fight through something better might be on the other side. A life he has control over. 

"I'm-" He tries to start, but his throat clogs and he clears it. Sam is watching him intently. "I'm embarrassed." 

"It's okay. It's okay." Sam's voice is wobbly and Dean watches as he holds back tears. The tiny smile on his face tells him they're happy tears. Happy to hear his voice. "About what?" 

Dean grits his teeth and swallows down the shame rising in his throat. His words come slowly and pulling them from his mind is like pouring molasses from a jar. "Cas saw me." 

"That's-that's okay. Cas has seen you at your lowest points, Dean. Cas literally put you back together, piece by piece." 

"But he did put me back together." Dean's voice is tired already, hoarse and drifting into a barely audible whisper. Sam has moved to kneel beside the bed so he can hear him. "He can't fix me this time." 

Realization hits Sam's face upon that revelation. He smiles sadly down at Dean, but doesn't counter his statement. Humiliation rolls painfully in his stomach. 

~~~~ 

A tentative knock at the door wakes Dean from a fitful nap. 

"Dean?" Cas has his head peaked through the door as though he's afraid Dean will tell him to leave again if he does anything too suddenly. "May I come in?" 

He nods drowsily against his pillow, the soft fabric of his pillowcase tugging at his cheek. He hears a soft sigh of relief fall from Cas's lips as the angel steps into his room and sits in the chair. The distance feels significant after waking up together that morning, and Dean knows he created it. 

"What did Sam tell you?" It's still not what he wants to say to Cas, but he supposes that will have to wait. Choosing his words is still difficult and he takes twice as long to say a simple sentence than Cas or Sam. It makes him want to clam up. 

"Nothing." 

"Help me sit up, please." Cas does and then Dean is sitting on the edge of the bed directly across from him. "You can't fix me."

"I know." Cas's tone is even but the wet shine in his eyes belies his effort to be casual. 

"Jack can't fix me either." 

Cas's brow furrows at that. "You know who Jack is?" 

Dean shakes his head. "No. But Billie told me about him. I remembered meeting her after expelling Michael." 

"You died?" Cas's eyes widen in shock at this revelation. 

"She gave me the option to. Said it would be easier than what I would have to deal with if I went back to my body. She wasn't wrong." Dean thinks about what Cas had just said. "If you didn't know Jack couldn't heal me, why didn't you try?" 

Cas's eyes crinkle sympathetically. "We did. That first night we brought you home, Sam prayed for him to leave heaven briefly and he did, but he couldn’t do anything either." 

They stay silent for a few minutes, thinking about it all, before Dean reiterates his first point. "I don't know if I'm fixable."

"Give it time." Cas responds. He really just wants Cas to tell him that it’s okay. Something is going wrong, and Dean isn’t sure how to stop it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is almost done, so it should be up pretty soon! I'm thinking this is likely going to be a 5 chapter fic, but it might be 6. I hope you're enjoying :D
> 
> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	4. Assembly Required

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much angst.

"Will you tell me how we met, Cas?" Dean asks a few days later as Cas takes him for a ride in the Impala to get some fresh air. His voice is still quiet and hoarse, painful sometimes, but choosing his words is getting easier. He's even starting to add the right inflections back in. 

"You had that flashback a week ago." Cas counters, though his voice is soft. 

"Yeah, I know. But I wanna know what it was like for you." Dean feels shy asking for this, as if he were asking Cas for something as momentous as a first date. He's not sure if this car ride counts as a date. He wants to ask that, too. 

The angel's blue eyes flick off the road to glance at Dean briefly with an indulgent smile. "Do you want to know what it was like putting you back together? Or what it was like meeting you in the barn?" 

"Putting me back together." That first meeting in the barn had been scary. Dean doesn't particularly want to hear about it right now. 

Cas bites his lip thoughtfully and Dean stares at the motion, entranced. 

"Putting you back together was the hardest thing I'd ever done. I'd never recreated a human body before. I'd never touched a soul as tortured as yours."

Dean flinches at this, the memory of Hell still raw. He hates that something that happened ten years ago is once again so fresh and potent in his mind. Reliving so much trauma all at once is taxing him and he's begun having nightmares. Cas must see the motion out of the corner of his eye, because he takes one hand off the wheel and extends it over the bucket seat for Dean to hold. He takes it like a lifeline, sensing he may need it to survive this story. 

"Despite all that, I remember being surprised by how pure your soul was, how little you wanted for yourself. I remember being confused by all the emotions in your soul. How each piece of a soul is built on feeling. Angels feel so little that I wasn't certain what to make of it. I certainly didn't expect that you were going to _teach_ me how to feel." 

That has Dean taken aback and he looks at Cas in surprise.

"I what?"

Cas looks over at him in equal confusion. "What do you mean 'you what'?"

"I taught you how to feel?" 

The angel's confusion deepens into a frown. "I thought you would have remembered that about me by now."  The disappointment in his voice fills the Impala with palpable heaviness and Dean isn't sure what he can say to make him feel better.

"Well I've remembered a lot, but it isn't really building a whole picture yet, you know? I-I know you rebelled for me, and I know we've always shared a profound bond, and-and" And he really knows nothing about Cas at all, no matter how many memories resurface. He looks up to find Cas staring hard at the road ahead, a wet glint filling his eyes. Dean feels Cas's hand tremble in his and knows the angel is fighting the impulse to pull it away. 

"I'm sorry." He whispers. "The pieces just aren't all back together, yet." 

Cas doesn't respond and he turns the car around far ahead of schedule. 

~~~~ 

He has nightmares that night about Cas. They come in a long stream of rapid fire failures that choke him in guilt and shame until he wakes in a cold sweat crying Cas's name. The angel is in bed cradling him in his arms before Dean even properly becomes aware he's awake again. 

"I'm sorry." He pleads weakly. "I'm trying. I'm trying to get better." 

Cas's arms tighten around him and Dean feels the angels lips press firmly to the crown of his head. "Oh Dean, I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I said." 

But he had said it, and now Dean can't forget for a moment that he isn't Cas's Dean. He can't help but be reminded that he's not what Cas wants. He's just an intermediate step between nothing and Dean and that intermediary is not enough. What if he remains not enough forever? 

Cas rocks him back and forth gently until he drifts back to sleep. 

~~~~ 

They try harder after that. Cas starts renting movies and TV box sets from the local library of all the things he remembers Dean ever quoting. Dean asks Cas to tell him what they were doing with each other when Cas learned  the references. Sam joins in sometimes with things from their childhood. Dean's a little confused about why some of these movies were such a big deal to him, but he laughs when he thinks he's supposed to laugh and hopes Cas doesn't notice it's fake. The first time he successfully makes a movie reference, Cas beams at him with such delight that Dean thinks the hours and hours of sitting through movies he doesn't care about are worth it. 

The memories stop tumbling in quite so fast at some point and Dean starts to worry. He hasn't remembered the first time he realized he trusted Cas, yet. He hasn't remembered his first kiss with Cas, even though he knows it happened. He hasn't remembered falling in love with him. He tries to hold onto the stories Cas tells him, force himself to remember, fit them into his picture of himself. Sometimes he's successful, but mostly he's not. Mostly they're just third person stories from Cas's perspective and they feel alien to Dean. He tries not to let on. He tries to watch Cas fondly while they hold hands in the Impala and not reveal how lost he is. Cas doesn't need to know he's lost. Cas doesn't need to know that Dean keeps a desperately written timeline of memories in his computer that he can read to himself when Cas is out on errands to try and memorize his life.  

~~~~ 

Sam finds an ancient wheelchair in the back of the bunker somewhere and Dean watches some videos on Youtube to figure out how to get himself in and out of it. Sam tells him there are physical therapists that help people with things like this, but the Winchesters don't do long term care. Their insurance scams are good but not that good, says Sam.  

He's weak and the transfers are hard, but moving around in the chair starts making his arms feel stronger again. Sam convinces him to do yoga with him in the mornings to start rebuilding his other muscles. They start real easy, and Cas helps him get into and hold some of the harder poses, which Dean knows must not be all that hard but they're hard for him. Dean hopes he gets strong enough to do the exercises on his own soon, because having Cas's hands on his body lights fires under his skin. He finishes Sam's sessions shaky and flushed and the yoga is only partly to blame. 

The rest of the time though, Dean is confused. Cas still hasn't touched him, except to hold hands while they watch movies in his cave or on their drives in the Impala. They still spend most of their days together, but it's different than before he started speaking and moving again. Dean expected their relationship to progress as he did, expected the caregiving touch to transform into romantic touch, but the minute he started being able to care for himself, Cas had taken a hard turn left and kept going. 

Dean tries not to let on how much it bothers him. He tries to accept the chaste handholding, fond glances, and long conversations, but he can't handle it much longer. The memories he does have tell him that he's a sexual person. They also tell him that Cas isn't completely uninterested in sexual endeavors himself, even though his only real encounter had been as a human. The flashback to his kiss with Meg had left Dean's stomach clenched with jealousy for hours. Cas's physical rejection of him is destroying his confidence. 

"Cas?" He asks a week into his yoga with Sam. 

"Yes, Dean?" 

"Will you help me try to stand?" 

"Of course." 

Cas positions himself in front of Dean with his arms outstretched. Dean grasps his forearms tightly, scoots forward in his chair until his legs are properly beneath him, and with a great effort of pushing through his legs and pulling through Cas, comes to a wobbly stand before the angel. 

"I did it!" He remarks in wonder as her looks down at his erect body. 

"You did." His voice is soft and when Dean looks back up, his face is gentle and proud. They stay that way for a while, joined at the arms and meeting one another's gazes steadily. Gradually, as Dean feels his legs steady beneath him, he releases his hold on Cas's arms and lets his hands fall to his hips instead. Cas trembles briefly but doesn't move away. 

He can do it, Dean tells himself.  Gripping Cas tighter for stability, he leans forward, angling his head just so. They're close, so close, when Cas ducks his head with a cough.

"You should probably sit down. You're getting pretty shaky." 

Dean clears his throat roughly and reaches back for the chair, hiding his burning face in his shoulder. "Right, right.” 

Cas excuses himself awkwardly to attend to some chore that probably doesn’t need doing and Dean remains sitting in the reading room, heart pumping too hard and shame flushing his cheeks hot. He doesn't try again. 

~~~~ 

The first day Dean gives himself a shower is magical. He hadn’t told Cas or Sam about his plans to try. Instead, he had been gradually practicing standing at the kitchen counter for longer and longer until he could finally do it without his hands long enough to wash his hair. 

It’s the most exhausting thing he’s done in ages. He picks the shower stall in the corner so he has lots of edges to grab, locks the chair brakes, and hauls himself up. 

The hot water pounds over his shoulders and back, warming his muscles right with new activity. Once he feels steady enough, he grabs the shampoo he’s pre-placed in the perfect spot to grab easily. He braces his forearms on the ledge as he rubs the gel between his palms and then tenses his legs with all his might for the minute or so it will take him to rub the shampoo into his hair and rinse it out. It's a terrifying minute. Dean can feel the trembling in his legs build to a full-powered quake and his knees almost buckle twice before he finally finishes and rests heavily on his elbows. He only needs to wash under his arms now and he'll be clean enough. He manages, but his breath is coming heavy by the time he finishes. 

He twists the knob to 'off' and side steps along the wall to where his chair sits waiting just out of reach of the spray. It's only a few feet but it stretches like miles before him and his tremulous legs. He almost makes it, but his wobbly legs lose purchase on the slick tiles as he makes to turn and sit. A loud cry rips from his chest as he lands soundly on his hip before catching the rest of  his fall with his elbow. Dean knows the showers are too far back in the bunker for anyone to have heard him, so he lies on the cold tiles as pain sinks deep into his hip. It doesn't feel broken, and even if it is, Cas could fix it. It's the pain he has to fight to lift himself back into his chair. He's never gotten himself up from the floor before, and he's realizing now it's something he probably should have practiced, but it hadn't occurred to them it might be a problem. Eventually he manages. 

Dressing himself seems an insurmountable task alone at the moment, so Dean simply drapes his towel and clothes over his lap and wheels back to his room. Is arm and hip are in so much pain from the effort by the time he arrives that it must be written on his fast in bold letters, because Cas simply springs from his bed with a concerned "Dean!" and he's healed. 

The pain drains quickly as Cas's grace takes effect and Dean sighs heavily in relief.

"What happened?" Cas asked. He's standing tall in front of Dean, strangely close, and Dean feels like he's being boxed out of his room. He wheels around Cas towards his bed in as fast a motion he can manage and sees his laptop open on the sheets. 

As he reaches for it, Cas mutters, "Dean," in a weak protest. It's his memory map, complete with where and when he'd had the flashback and where in his life he thought it fit in. His body turns cold. 

"What were you doing with this?" Dean asks darkly. 

Cas swallows loudly, staring resolutely at the floor. "I was trying to email Claire. It was just open on your desktop." 

 _Dammit_. He berates himself. He'd tried being so careful, but he must have been careless in his excitement to shower once Cas had gone off to buy some lunch. 

"How much did you read?"

"All of it." Cas answers in a whisper. "Dean, what _is_ this?" 

"It's just to help me organize my thoughts. There's too many flashbacks to keep track of sometimes." That's only half a lie. He hasn't had a flashback in days. Of course Cas catches him on it. 

"There hasn't been a new entry since Sunday." It's Thursday. Dean knows because Cas still wakes him up by telling him what day it is. "Have the memories already slowed down that much?"

Cas's voice is full of fear. The kind of fear Dean doesn't want to face. 

"I've just been forgetting to make entries. I've been so focused on getting my strength back." It's a weak lie, but Dean watches Cas swallow it with dumb hope. 

~~~~ 

That Saturday he decides he doesn't want to watch whatever past-life film Cas has planned for that day and Dean skims Netflix for anything that looks interesting. He shows his screen to Cas when the angel comes to bring him into the kitchen for breakfast. It's the title shot of _Wynonna Earp_. 

"Let's watch this today." 

Cas fails to hide the confusion on his face fast enough. "You want to watch _that_?"

Dean's smile falters, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "What's wrong with this? It's a Western." 

"It's, uh, just not exactly your taste. But sure, we can watch it." 

They sit themselves down in their usual recliners after breakfast. He wishes they would watch in his bed, wrapped up in one another and his sheets but he’s afraid to ask. He shoves the disappointment away and presses play. 

He loves it. It's corny and ridiculous and dramatic. He roots for Waverly and Nicole, definitely ships Wyndolls, and thinks Bobo reminds him just a little too much of Crowley (what he remembers of Crowley anyway). They make it most of the way through the first season when his stomach finally growls and Cas wheels him out to the kitchen for a late lunch. 

Cas is quieter than usual as he eats and Dean knows he's done something wrong, even though he'd tried so hard not to. 

"You're awfully quiet over there." He says with faux lightness. 

"You really like this show." Is all Cas says. 

"Well I would hope so. I chose it." He feels his bravado fading even as he speaks.

"You chose all the other ones too. At one point." Cas isn't looking at him and Dean's insides burn and coil inside him. He can't do it- can't pretend he's normal- no matter how hard he tries. Suddenly he's not hungry, though he knows he needs to eat, and he pushes his food away. Cas pushes it back aggressively. "You have to eat." 

Dean pushes the food away again, only to have Cas push it back. In a jolt of fury, Dean grabs the plate and throws it across the kitchen where it shatters, streaking the tiles with mashed potatoes and chicken. 

Cas stares after the destroyed food and porcelain in baffled silence before abruptly pushing away from the table to stand. His blue eyes are sharp with pain when he turns back around and Dean wants to shrink from them, but doesn't. 

"Don't you want to get better?" Cas yells. 

"What I want?" Dean tries to yell in response, but his voice only manages an angry speaking volume. "I want you to be okay with what I am. I want you to touch me, and kiss me, and tell me you love me. I want you to stop waiting on me to be Dean again." 

The broken look Cas's face contorts into upon hearing that crumples Dean before he even speaks. "You want me to give up?" 

Those words shatter him completely. "Am I a concession prize?" His voice is barely a whisper, but the guilt in Cas's eyes tells Dean he heard him and its answer enough. "I need you to leave for a while." 

"Dean!" The angel's protest is small and sad. "Please don't." 

"Why should you stay here, Cas? If I'm not the man you rebelled for, then why stay?" 

A broken shudder of breath stutters out of Cas's chest as he stands stock still before Dean. Neither of them moves for some time before Dean finally can't stand it any longer. 

"Go away." He says once again, the scene too familiar in his mind. Cas turns and a minute later Dean hears the bunker door slam shut. He looks over at his wheelchair, far across the kitchen and down the steps in the reading room, and realizes he's trapped. Silent tears run down his cheeks as his helplessness crushes him. He wishes he’d asked Billie what would happen if he didn't make it through.  
  
~~~~ 

Sam finds him later that evening when he returns from his errands, trembling and spent on the kitchen floor. He'd tried to crawl to his chair and only made to the top of the stairs before his arm had given out beneath him and he's toppled onto his side. He had no motivation left to push himself through. 

His little brother runs to him and helps him sit up. 

"Dean, what happened? Where's Cas?" 

The mention of Cas brings fresh tears to Dean's eyes and he shakes his head weakly, but can't say anything. 

"Okay, you're shaking like a leaf. I need you to eat something. Can you do that?" 

Dean's not sure, but he nods his head anyway. Sam carries him to his wheelchair, disappears for a few minutes, and returns with a simple meat and cheese sandwich. Despite his lack of appetite, Dean eats the whole thing and Sam puts him to bed without another question. 

~~~~ 

He won't talk to Sam about it, no matter how much his little brother tries asking him. There's no point. Sam can't make Cas accept him. Sam can't make Cas fall in love with this new version of Dean. He just goes about his day doing yoga, learning how to cook again, and watching whatever shows he feels like. Two and a half weeks pass with no word from Cas and Dean finally decides he really wants to know. 

"Am I really that different?" He asks over the pancakes he'd made himself that morning. They were a little burnt, but Sam didn't say anything. 

"What do you mean?" Sam looks a little wary, like he's not sure he wants to answer. 

"Come on Sammy, you know what I mean. Am I that different than pre-possession Dean?" He stuffs too big a bite into his mouth to hide his anxiety over the answer. 

"Well, yes and no. A lot of your mannerisms are the same. Like that disgustingly massive bite you just took or  how you touch everything in sight." Sam pauses as he watches Dean's face for a response. He must be satisfied Dean is alright so far because he continues. "The way you talk and stuff is also pretty similar. On the surface, you don't _seem_ that different." 

Dean frowns. "So you can tell I'm different then." His voice drops off at the end sadly. 

Sam stares at his plate regretfully. "Yeah, I can. You hold yourself differently, for one. You've lost all the posturing you used to have. You're interested in different things, too. You don't even like some of your favorite movies. Or you can't remember why they're your favorite, I don't know which." 

"Is there something wrong with that?" Dean asks. 

"It's just…" Sam stops and draws a sharp breath through his nose. "It's a loss, is all. You're not who you were. And Cas is just…grieving."

"Aren't you grieving?" Dean doesn't quite understand the concept of grief the way Sam is talking about it. 

"Well, I guess, yes. But I'm your brother, and I love you because I love you. You're not so different that I can't get past it. But Cas. Cas lost his whole world for you and he was happy to do it. He fell for a very particular person, and you aren't quite that person anymore and I don’t think Cas knows where to go from here. I think, in a way, you're part of Cas's identity and if you're not you anymore, then… Well, I think he's grieving the loss of you and the loss of who he thinks he is." 

Dean's grateful Sam didn't make him spell out why he was asking. Grateful that Sam pays such good attention and knows so much. It hurts too, though, finally having his fears about Cas confirmed by someone else. He's not what Cas wants. 

Dean stands on wobbly legs and pulls Sam into a hug. The angle is awkward because his brother is still sitting, but he reciprocates with warm, strong arms. 

When he finally lets go, he smiles at Dean softly, something warm and gentle in his face. "Your hugs are the same." 

Dean returns the smile. As Sam moves to leave the kitchen after lunch, he turns towards Dean with a hesitant look. 

"What is it, Sammy?" 

"You should give Cas a chance, Dean. Give him a chance to know this you." 

The words constrict around his guts. "He doesn't want that." 

"Maybe you should just tell him what you want. If you're at all like your old self, I'm doubting you've really done that yet." 

~~~~ 

He thinks about Sam's words all day. Does knowing the nature of Cas's conflict change anything? Understanding why he's grieving doesn't change the fact that he is. It certainly doesn't make Dean feel like the angel cares about him. It does, however, make him feel less like a failure, and with that in mind he finds Cas in his contacts and presses 'call.' 

It goes to voicemail. He hangs up and tries again. Voicemail once more. 

"Third times the charm." He tells himself stubbornly as he presses 'call' one more time. 

"Hello, Dean." Cas sounds gruff and defeated.

"Cas." His heart is beating hard, and through his thin frame Dean can actually see the jump of it through his ribs. What was he actually planning on saying again? 

"Why are you calling?" Cas interrupts his thoughts. 

"Right, right. I, um, want you to come home." 

Silence stretches across the line and Dean wonders how long he should wait before saying it again. 

"You what?" Cas's voice has raised an octave, and Dean wonders what sorts of feelings are going through him. 

"I was talking to Sam about some stuff, and I've been thinking a lot, and I think we need to try again." 

"What did you have in mind?" Dean can hear the hope in Cas's voice. 

"Will you go on a date with me? A first date, with me as I am right now? Will you try to get to know me?" 

"I'm scared, Dean." It wasn't exactly what Dean wanted to hear, but it was more honest than Cas had been before.

"I know you are. But will you?"  
  
The wait is interminable but Dean remains patient, trying to force his anxious heart to calm. "Yes, Dean."

He feels his cheeks flush like a teenager and his voice wobbles when he responds. "When can you pick me up?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, everything about Dean's physical rehabilitation process makes me want to cry, but it's totally what the Winchesters would do. Don't try this at home, kids.
> 
> I know this is not going how a lot of you maybe expected it to go, but stay tuned! Recovery is a difficult process with lots of stops, starts, and changes in direction. Sometimes it goes how you think and sometimes it doesn't and that's really difficult for all parties involved. That's what I wanted to try and embody with this fic. 
> 
> My July is pretty insane, so the next chapter is probably going to be early August. I've already got a decent chunk written, so I'm aiming for August 2nd! It's gonna be much fluffier than this right here was! It's also looking like it's likely going to be 6 or 7 chapters. 
> 
> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	5. A Table is a Table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer than usual wait!
> 
> So many feelings!!!

Two days later the doorbell rings, breaking Dean from his morning yoga reverie.

“You order food or something?” He asks Sam, as his brother moves to ascend the stairs. 

Sam shakes his head in the negative. “Don’t know who it is. Wasn’t expecting anyone.” 

Dean pulls himself to standing with an armchair nearby. He can walk short distances now if he’s got something to hold onto, but standing up from the floor is still a whole process. Tiny, exhausted huffs of air expand and contract his chest as he hears Sam speak from above. 

“Cas? Why’d you use the doorbell?” 

Dean’s rapidly recovering heart suddenly begins beating double time again. Cas? He isn’t supposed to be here already. He’d said he had a hunt to finish up with Jody in Sioux Falls that would probably take a few days. Dean isn't ready yet. He doesn't know what he's supposed to say, he hasn't figured out where to take Cas for their first date yet, and he hasn't even properly cleaned his room. 

"Hello, Dean."

Cas's voice is suddenly very close and Dean realizes how much his thoughts had gotten the best of him. He blinks rapidly a few times to refocus on the angel and Dean can tell how anxious he is. If angels could look haggard or worn down, Cas would at the moment. His tie is askew, his collar rumpled, and his short hair has escaped its careful coif. He remembers Cas's bed hair of their early years together and not for the first time finds himself wanting to run his hands through it to mess it up even more. Clearing his throat to suppress the urge, Dean raises a hand awkwardly in welcome. 

"Hey, Cas."

They stare at one another intently for long-stretching seconds and Dean wonders whether words are necessary right now or not. As they stand there, Dean watches Cas's tension ease minutely, as if he's gradually realizing Dean has truly accepted him back into his space. Their space. Dean needs to make sure Cas knows this is his home, too. That Dean isn't going to send him away again, even if this doesn't go the way he hopes. He thinks he can tolerate it if Cas can only be his friend, but he can't tolerate Cas leaving entirely. 

"You didn't have to ring the doorbell." 

"I thought you might appreciate a warning. I arrived sooner than anticipated." 

He's talking cold and detached. Dean hates it. He wants the warm Cas back, but he thinks he might have to coax it out with reliability and openness. He wishes Cas would just take him as he is with open arms, but Dean knows Cas isn't obligated to love him. They’ll have to discover if Cas can love Dean regardless of how much he eventually recovers. 

“You never have to warn me, Cas. I was wrong, for tellin’ you to leave.” 

“Thank you, Dean.” More tense silence. Cas’s gaze keeps darting nervously to the area near the stairwell and Dean wonders what he’s looking at. Is there some secret exit there Cas is wishing he could escape through? He takes a few small steps away from where he’s looking and Dean grows more confused but doesn’t say anything when Cas’s eyes resettle on him. “You’re looking well.” 

A warm flush crawls up his cheeks despite himself and Dean scratches the back of his neck as he looks down at himself. His legs are starting to shake from the effort of standing so long, but if he tries to see himself from Cas’s perspective, he can see it. His pants are fitting a little tighter again and his shirt doesn’t billow so loosely around his trunk. He definitely hasn’t put much muscle mass back on yet, so most of the weight is fat, but he finds that he’s fine with that. The fat covers his bones and looking at himself in the mirror isn’t so painful anymore. 

“Thanks. I feel a bit better.” As he says it, though, his knee gives a particularly aggressive shake and he leans heavier on the chair to keep his balance. “Probably should sit though.” 

He lets his glance flit up to Cas’s face as he lowers into the chair to gauge his reaction to Dean’s struggle. The angel doesn’t appear overly concerned or pained by the event and Dean counts that as a win. He doesn’t want Cas shying away every time his symptoms show. He doesn’t want confirmation that Cas only wants progress. 

“Is the fact I’m still basically a patient going to bother you, Cas?” 

The angel, who had been staring at Dean’s feet while he moved, looks up at him in genuine surprise. “No. Of course not. I like being able to take care of you.” 

“You just wish I was different.” 

“Do you have to bring this up right now?” The angel’s tone is almost petulant and Dean rolls his eyes at his stubbornness. 

“Yes, Cas. I need this out of the way. I know enough that I know if we don’t talk now, it ain’t happening.” 

The angel holds his hard, stony face for a few seconds longer before finally letting it soften with a defeated sigh. Dean’s stomach squirms as he waits. 

“I’m sorry I implied you were not good enough.” 

“Then why’d you say what you did?” Dean pretty much knows the answer from Sam, but he needs Cas’s version. 

“I have so much history with you, Dean. Angels aren’t supposed to have feelings, but I did, for you. You were a one in infinity person. Trying to fall in love with you is like-is like…" Cas's arms flounder about in the air before him in search of an apropos metaphor. 

"Is like a stormtrooper tryin' to hit Han?" Dean supplies, much as he doesn't want to. 

Cas looks back up at him with a conflicting mix of gratitude and sympathy on his face. "Sort of." He doesn't say more, but Dean can see the twitch in his jaw that means he's holding something back. 

"What were you really gonna say, Cas?" 

The angel chews at his lip anxiously before finally opening his mouth to speak. "It's like trying to a order a slice of your favorite pie at a restaurant but they tell you they're all out. You can wait and hopefully the new batch will be done before you have to leave, or you can try a different pie you're not familiar with. If you choose the former, you know what you'll get but you don't know if you'll get it. If you choose the latter, you might love it, but you might also spend the whole time wondering if you would have eventually gotten the other piece instead." 

Dean swallows down the disappointment he feels at Cas's comparison. It's not helpful for him to feel those things, because Cas is here. Despite his hesitation and uncertainty, Cas had agreed to come back on Dean's terms and that had to mean something.

"But I'm not a completely different pie, Cas. At least I don't think I am. I'm not pumpkin when you wanted cherry. More like lemon meringue when you wanted key lime. Both citrus, just a little different." 

"But what if it's that small difference that matters, Dean?" Cas is beginning to look desperate again, his eyebrows furrowing as he drives himself deeper into his own forthcomings. 

"Cas, I know I don't remember everything, but I know you didn't rebel against heaven for me because I liked cowboys and pie. I know it's painful for you that I don't remember everything about our time together, and I know it's confusing when I choose cake over pie sometimes, but we can make new memories and you can tell me stories of the old ones. My soul hasn't changed, and isn't that what makes me the one in infinity human?" 

Dean doesn't know if any of what he's saying is true. He doesn't know what it was about him that Cas fell for. He doesn't know whether or not his old penchant for all things wild west and insane love of pie were indeed what sealed the deal for Cas somewhere along the way. Dean simply finishes his argument, and hopes that Cas can agree a lemon might be as nice as a lime. 

"I can't promise you I can do that, Dean." 

"I know you can't, Cas. I only want you to promise me you'll try. We'll go as slow as you want. I won't make you leave if you can't do it. We'll just find a new way to be." 

The look Cas fixes him with is intense and discerning, as though attempting to read the truth in that. Dean looks back, refusing to waver lest he give Cas any reason to doubt him. He means what he said. It would be truly painful to finally learn Cas couldn't love him as he is now, but he could do it. This situation is no good for all of them, but Cas shouldn't be the one to lose his family because of it. 

"How would you like to start?" Cas asks finally, a tentative smile curling a single corner of his mouth. 

~~~~ 

A few days later, Cas has settled back into the bunker and Sam is helping Dean get dressed in his nicest jeans, boots, and a soft green Henley that he's pretty sure brings out his eyes. Dean feels a little self-conscious trying to look so nice for Cas since all he’s known since regaining consciousness is sweatpants and t-shirts, but he feels like the effort is important. Especially since Cas is still clearly very nervous.

He'd spent his entire first two days back at the bunker looking like he wanted to run away the second Dean entered a room, but was simultaneously quick and attentive the moment he'd needed anything. It was clear to Dean that the angel had no idea how to interact with him now that they'd settled on "trying." Dean doesn't blame him. It's a completely unbalanced playing field they're on and he gets it. Dean only knows Cas as he is now and as their relationship has been post-Michael. He's known he loves Cas since before he could speak, not that he's told Cas that. Cas doesn't even know who Dean really is yet, let alone if he loves him. Dean can be patient. 

They’ve settled on grabbing some pie at a new bakery that’s popped up in nearest larger town, Smith Center, and then seeing where the evening takes them. When he wheels out into the front hall, Cas is already waiting for him, hands clutched behind his back and bouncing periodically up onto his toes. The nervous movement is surprisingly endearing on the typically stoic angel. He's wearing his usual trench and suit, but the tie is a bit straighter than usual and Dean thinks there might be more product in his hair than usual. He briefly wonders if Sam had a role in convincing the angel to dress up a little, despite his own questionable fashion sense.

The angel stills when he realizes Dean has entered the room and Dean realizes he must have been quite lost in thought to miss the sound of the creaky wheelchair approaching. "Hello, Dean." 

As usual, the rumbling welcome makes Dean's stomach squirm and he smiles awkwardly. "Hey, Cas. Good to go?" 

Cas holds his hands out beside him with a small smile as if to indicate his readiness and Dean sees a small flash of a time years ago of Cas stepping out of a motel bathroom presenting himself with a proud smile. Dean feels, rather than coherently remembers, the inappropriate thoughts that had flooded his mind at the sight of his friend, clean and healthy. A throat being cleared brings him back to reality. 

"Dean?" The angel's puzzled look forces Dean to realize he missed something entirely. 

"Hmm? Sorry, sorry. I'm here. Were you saying something?" He's well aware his cheeks are flushed and his stomach is coiled with tension and he does his best to stomp it down for Cas's sake.

"I was saying it's nearly December and you should wear a coat and hat." 

"Right, good idea. I've got a hat in the closet, but I'm not sure I've got a coat warm enough for how cold I get these days." Dean suddenly wishes he'd had more foresight about the weather.

"Actually, Jody gave me one to give you before I left. She said it was Sean's." 

"Oh. That was nice of her." 

The coat is a little loose on him, but very warm and once he's pulled his hat on he's far too warm even in the chilly bunker.

The first part of the ride to the diner is quiet, but it feels comfortable. Halfway there, Cas pulls a tape out of his pocket and presses it gently into the player. Zepp starts playing quietly through the speakers and a soft smile creeps up his lips as he realizes what Cas had put in.

"What are you smiling about?" 

"I remember making this. It took a long time to even just pick which songs I wanted on it and the whole time I was just laughing at myself inside because I was pretty sure you wouldn't even understand the significance." 

"I'm sorry I tried to give it back." The angel says softly from the driver's side, a tinge of remorse touching his voice.

"Why'd you do that?" He can't remember that particular event but he's sure it must have hurt like hell. 

"I felt guilty. I was betraying you for the angels and I couldn't in good conscious keep my first gift under false pretenses.

Dean knows he should be more curious about why Cas had betrayed him but he was more stuck on the latter piece of information. "In all our ten years knowing each other, I never gave you a gift?" He can hear the outrage in his voice and Cas looks over in surprise at his vigor. 

"No." He answers simply. His casual acceptance makes Dean more upset.

"Cas, I'm sorry." They sit quietly for a while as Dean's fervent aggravation calms before he broaches the subject again. "Do you know what a mixtape means?" 

Another bashful smile tilts Cas's lips upward even as he keeps his eyes on the road. Dean stares at the expression in wonder. "I've since figured it out, yes." 

"I can teach you how to make one some day, if you like." He's not sure Cas will like the offer, as it would imply having someone to make a mixtape for, but he's glad he said it when Cas nods once in affirmative. 

"I'd like that." 

~~~~ 

The pie is pretty good. Cas says he was always struggling to find a good pie place around Lebanon before Michael. He wonders why he likes pie so much, and he thinks Cas must know because Cas put him back together once, but he doesn’t know if that’s appropriate first date conversation.

They’re eating in silence so Dean thinks Cas must not know what to talk about either. He’s been on first dates before, but he can’t remember many of them. What do you say? 

“Tell me what it was like when you were born.”

The question surprises Cas, Dean can see from the sudden widening of his bright blue eyes over a forkful of lemon meringue pie. The choice hadn’t been lost on Dean, and while clunky, he appreciated the gesture.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, humans don’t remember being born. Do you? Or are you born like babies just like us?” 

“No, Chuck created us quite fully for- Why are you laughing?" 

Dean feels terrible but he can't help himself. He takes a few steadying breaths before opening his eyes  to see the half-hurt, half-amused look on Cas's face. 

"I'm sorry, Cas. I still just can't over God calling himself _Chuck_." A fit of giggles overtakes him once again as he says the name. He briefly worries that Cas will be upset he's derailed his story barely a few words in, but he needn't have been concerned.

After a few moments of staring at Dean in utter amazement, a tentative smile spreads Cas's cheeks wide in mirth and his eyes crinkle as tiny huffs of laughter shake his shoulders. The laughter overtakes him gradually until his lips are wide in a full blown, toothy smile and Dean just watches the careless joy roll over him. 

"I suppose it is a rather silly name. Very undignified." 

Dean finds himself staring at Cas as the angel shakes his head against the last remnants of laughter, an amused grin on his face as he spears another bite of pie with his fork. It's an innocent expression, so devoid of anxiety or reservation and Dean knows for certain somewhere deep in his gut that Cas doesn't wear it often. He's not sure what he's done to deserve a glimpse of it.

"I like your laugh." He says shyly, looking up at Cas from beneath his lashes, as though keeping his head down will hide the flush spreading to his ears. The way Cas is looking at him tells Dean he would be blushing too, if angels could. 

"I don't do it very often." The angel confides in him. Dean can't quite tell if he's embarrassed or regretful. 

"You should. It's good for you." 

"I'm an angel, Dean. Nothing is particularly good or bad for me." Cas stares at Dean hard for a few moments before one corner of his tilts up in a devious grin. 

A shocked laugh makes it's way from Dean's lips and he smiles in awe. "Your poker face is incredible." 

"I'm aware." Cas replies, no hint of humility in his voice as he leans across the table conspiratorially. "It's won you several hundred dollars here and there." 

They talk a while longer about things of no real import before finally finishing their coffees and pie. 

"Dean, would you like to go to a movie?" 

"I'd like that." He responds immediately with a small, shy smile.

The only theatre nearby is in town and they only show one movie a day and it starts pretty soon. Dean can’t help but think Cas planned the whole thing out ahead of time and made it seem coincidental. It’s surprisingly smooth for the angel and Dean’s stomach warms when he thinks about the effort Cas is putting into all this.  

Cas helps steady him in the dark theater as he stands from his wheelchair and moves the few steps to an outer aisle seat, before slipping the chair into the accessible space behind him. Dean holds the popcorn drenched in butter in his lap as Cas seats himself beside him. He's careful to time his movements around Cas's, so their hands don't meet in the middle. Cas is guiding those things. If Cas wants to hold his hand, Cas will hold his hand, and he knows Dean will let him, but he doesn't, and that's alright. Tonight, Cas has laughed and taken him to a movie and that's enough for Dean. 

~~~~ 

"Dean? Dean, the movie's over." 

Cas's voice is gentle and gruff in his ear. His cheek is smooshed against smooth, cool fabric and Cas's breath tickles the hairs near his temple. 

"Huh?" He asks groggily. 

"You fell asleep." Cas's voice is fond in  his ear. Dean finally realizes his head is laying on the angel's shoulder and he pulls away quickly. 

"Sorry." He says sheepishly. 

"It's alright. I didn't really think about how late it was when I suggested we see something. I’m sorry you missed so much of the movie." 

"Don't worry about it. I should've figured, given that I haven't stayed up past 8:30 in ages. I feel like such an old man." 

Cas chuckles lightly and Dean feels goosebumps prickle his arms. 

"Let me get your chair." 

~~~~ 

The drive home is peaceful and uneventful. Dean sings quietly along to the Zeppelin tracks so he doesn't fall asleep again. He hasn't said anything to Cas about it, but he's grateful he still likes his old bands. He thinks there must be something about music that ties into the soul more than anything else, because he's had more flashbacks just listening through the box of tapes Sam had brought to his room one day than anything else has given him.

Those are simpler flashbacks, fuzzier and less discrete, consisting mostly of feelings and awareness of who was with him. Cas and Sam feature prominently in these memories, but the emotions associated with them are distinctly different. With Sam, the feelings always have a protective undertone, regardless of whether the surface emotion is happiness, or anger, or sadness. 

His memories of Cas are constantly evolving. The oldest ones were laced with fear and hesitation. Those were rapidly replaced by tentative trust, frustration, and deeply restrained desire. Dean is always sad when he comes back from those memories; sad to know how intensely he'd felt things for so long and felt the need to restrict himself. Who had he been hiding from? Surely not Sam, though he doesn't know whether Sam had always been so accepting of him. 

The emotions become more potent as the memories become newer. Pain, regret, longing, betrayal, trust, love. Without context, they overwhelm him and he wonders sometimes if this is the way a baby feels as it tries to make sense of a world forcing too much information upon it too quickly. Perhaps it's how Cas felt when he entered Dean's world of free will and he'd had to make choices without enough information. 

The sudden realization of all that Cas did for him over their ten years of life together fills Dean to the brim in that singular moment, not as a distinct set of memories, but as an experience. The angel had truly given everything for him, what he was doing, and Dean still can't believe the enormity of the choice. Awe and gratitude fills his blood with warmth he can't stop from brimming over. 

"Are you all right Dean?" Cas's voice reaches him from the driver's seat, though he sounds far and distant. 

Tear tracks have run salty divots through his stubble and Dean realizes they're in the garage as he scrubs them away. He clears his clogged throat before speaking. 

"Yeah, yeah. I was just…feeling. A lot." The look Castiel fixes him with is not comforted. "I still just can't believe you're here, sometimes. You could be anywhere and yet you're here. Despite everything that I _do_ know about, you've stayed here."  
  
Cas's lips lift into a smile, a tiny, happy thing that Dean can barely see in the dim garage light, but it's there. 

"You talk to me differently than he did." It’s such an obvious statement that Dean almost teases him about it. The words fade, unformed, in some vague region of his brain when he sees Cas nip at his lip uncertainly and Dean realizes something momentous is happening. 

"Is that okay?" 

The angel looks down at the hands in his lap before lifting his wide, hesitant gaze to Dean's. Blue holds green with unwavering strength and Dean feels the depth of trust and acceptance passed between them. 

"I think so." 

~~~~ 

Life in the bunker between dates proves to be more awkward than Dean had expected. Where only a month prior Cas had been helping bathe him, now Dean feels awkward if Cas so much as sees him without a shirt. Not because he’s shy. He still hates how weak and small he looks, and thinks the new angles of his joints are unappealing, but he’s not concerned about his own comfort. Before, his nudity was a necessary thing, but now it’s an intimacy he must wait for Cas to want. 

Their touches, similarly, feel loaded for Dean, and he struggles to restrain himself from stretching helpful touches beyond their intended purpose. His skin flushes and tingles where Cas holds him to help him practice walking or taking the stairs. Cas knows he feels this way. Dean can see how his eyes shine a little brighter when they’re close, even as his jaw tightens in focus, as though he’s fighting a war of conflicting impulses. He wonders how many times a day Cas forgets he’s not the same anymore before the memory crashes back in with a jolt. The whiplash must be terrible and Dean briefly feels badly for it, until he reminds himself he’s not at fault. 

~~~~ 

They decide to go on dates twice a week. It seems like often enough to break the monotony of bunker life but not so often the outings stop feeling special. Unfortunately, there’s nothing to do in Lebanon, especially when it’s freezing out and Dean can’t walk well. He’s getting really tired of practicing around the bunker to build his endurance, which is why, feeling like a complete middle-schooler, he suggests what he does for their second date. 

“Let’s go to the mall.” 

They’re sitting in the bat cave searching on their respective computers for something to do that night. Cas looks over at him with a carefully blank face. 

“That’s an idea.” 

Dean doesn’t miss the strategic lack of descriptor in that statement. “I know it’s not romantic or cute or whatever, but everything around here is too hard for me to do yet.” He swallows hard against that bitter truth. 

Cas must see his barely concealed frustration with himself because his eyes light with understanding. 

“There is plenty to do at the mall. And lots of places to sit and rest when you get tired. They have that cupcake place with the good ice cream too.” 

Dean smiles fondly at Cas’s willingness to adapt and make him feel less burdensome.

“Ice cream sounds great.”

So later that afternoon, equipped with the cane he’d been practicing with in the bunker, he and Cas set out for the mall. When he’d suggested it, he hadn’t actually realized how far it was to the closest thing that counted as a real mall. Once Cas had told him they should leave pretty early so he doesn’t fall asleep again on the way back, Dean had realized part of why the angel had been so hesitant about the plan. Three hours in the car on a second date was a commitment. He can feel his nerves building as they settle into the car for the trip ahead, but when Cas smiles over at him as he reverses out of the garage, they settle. It will be fun. 

It is, as it turns out. They pass the time between Dean singing to the radio, reading random road signs, and chatting about what they’d been up to while Cas was away. Dean is surprised to find its so easy to talk about, considering it had been a sad couple of weeks. 

“You were hunting a what?” He asks incredulously, when Cas finally gets to the last part where he’d been hunting with Jody. 

“A poltergeist.” 

“So…those aren’t just a movie thing then?” 

Cas’s eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline in surprise before smiling indulgently at Dean’s naïveté. “No, Dean, they’re real. I take it you don’t remember the few you’ve hunted?” 

Dean shakes his head, his brow furrowed lightly out of habit, before he suddenly realizes he doesn’t feel embarrassed. Cas is apparently unconcerned and he’s, for once, not frustrated he doesn’t remember something. 

“Nah, I guess I don’t. I remember a couple werewolves here and there. Vampires. Something called a werepire?” Cas chuckles at that. “Not poltergeists though.” 

“Well they’re nasty. Next level ghosts. When you called and asked me to come home, Jody helped me finish it off in record time.” 

“You didn’t have to rush the job for me, Cas.” He says it because it’s polite, but Dean’s stomach flutters knowing Cas rushed to come home. 

“Of course I did.” The angel answers matter of factly. “Just because I had some reservations doesn’t mean you aren’t important to me.” 

Had. Dean doesn’t point out the tense. He doesn’t want to make Cas uncomfortable. It sticks with him the rest of the car ride though, making his skin warm and his mind race. 

 _I don’t get words wrong._  

~~~~ 

When Cas pulls into the parking lot, he drives close to the main entrance to let Dean out while he finds a spot. Dean settles himself on a bench right inside and waits. He’s trying to enjoy himself but he’s nervous about his stamina. What if he can’t even make it through the mall? What if he makes it to the end but can’t get back and Cas has to find him a wheelchair? He knows Cas won’t mind, they’d used the chair for the movies after all, but the uncertainty bothers him. 

“Are you ready, Dean?” 

He looks up to find Cas looking at him expectantly. 

“Yeah, sorry. Just got a little lost in thought.” 

“Are you alright?” 

For a moment he considers lying, but there would be no purpose in that. “Just a little nervous about all the walking now that we’re actually here. I don’t want to ruin the evening just cuz I run outta juice.” 

“Dean, even if I need to find a wheelchair for you, the evening won’t change at all.” 

He knows his cheeks are burning red, but he turns his face up to smile at Cas regardless. Fondness fills the angel’s eyes and Dean draws upon it for strength as he gathers his legs beneath him to stand. 

“Alright, where’s this cupcake place?” 

~~~~ 

While thoroughly expecting himself to order a cone, Dean is so taken by the small cupcakes that he decides to order three of different flavors. 

Turning to Cas, he asks, “What would you like?” He doesn’t expect the faintly sad shadow that takes over his face, but he immediately knows what it means. “That’s something I used to know, huh?” 

Cas nods once, but Dean can tell he's fighting to bring some levity back to his expression. 

"Well, if you tell me now, I won't forget again." 

A tinge of a smile colors Cas's cheeks before he points at the glass case with startling vigor, as though he has the flavor's location perfectly memorized. "Two scoops of mint chocolate chip on a wafer cone, please." 

Dean hums in thought, committing the order to his memory banks as he pays the cashier. The flavor makes sense to him somehow, as though he can imagine the first time Castiel tried it and decided it was the perfect combination of molecules made just for him. In some ways, he thinks, it is. The intense, cool energy of the mint interspersed with tiny bursts of sweet crunchy chocolate. He finds himself imagining that if Cas's grace had a flavor, it would be mint. Not ice cream mint or candy mint, but the pure stuff, straight from the leaves. Fierce and clean and all-encompassing, but capable of change depending on what you mix with it. 

“What are you thinking about?” Cas asks. He’s got a plate of Dean’s cupcakes in one hand and his cone in the other. 

“You.” Dean answers simply as he takes the plate from Cas.

The angel looks at him with wide eyes, as though he's somehow surprised he's crossed Dean's mind at all. 

"What about me?" 

"Thinkin' about what your grace would taste like." 

Dean immediately blushes when Cas tips his head and lifts his eyebrow at Dean, his expression simultaneously suggestive and mocking.

"Not-not like that. I wasn't thinking about it in a dirty way." He probably would now though. Cas's expression has shifted to a smug smirk and Dean glowers at him. "You’ve learned too much from the pizza man, you know that?" 

"I believe he's taught me a sufficient amount, yes." Cas replies before addressing his ice cream for the first time. 

There's no real intent in Cas's tone, but it hits Dean like a barrel of whisky that the angel is flirting with him. Easy, fun, playful flirting. He stuffs a bite of vanilla cupcake in his mouth to stop himself from saying anything dumb and revels in the warmth filling his stomach.

“It would probably taste terrible, to be honest. To a human anyway.” Cas continues after eating in silence for a while, as though Dean’s thought  process had been perfectly legitimate. “In theory it sounds nice; a physical manifestation of God’s intent. I imagine it wouldn’t have a flavor at all though. Most likely it would just burn, like acid.” 

Dean chuckles. Cas’s infinite ability to dryly dissect any topic at hand will likely never cease to amuse him. 

“What’s it taste like to an angel then?” 

Cas hums thoughtfully as he regards his ice cream. “It still burns a little, but it settles in quickly and makes you feel warm.” 

“Sounds like liquor.” 

“I suppose not much different. Angel’s are intoxicated on the power of God. Dependent on it. They go mad without it.” 

“You didn’t.” Dean points out. 

“I did though, didn’t I? I went maddest of them all. I just…had someone to help pull me through the other end.” 

They sit on that for a while and Dean watches the ice cream drip over the edge of Cas’s cone. The angel doesn’t move to stop it, his gaze focused intently on Dean’s hands where they rest on the table. 

“I should stop referring to you like that.” 

“Huh?” 

“You are him. _Someone_ didn’t pull me through. _You_ pulled me through. He’s not a past tense. He’s you.” 

“I suppose so.” Dean’s not sure what he’s supposed to say to that, but something else is niggling at his brain. “You know, Cas. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’ve pulled off a lot of crazy shit. You aren’t just where you are now because you had me.” 

“Technically that is exactly why I’m here.” 

“Well sure, if you’re bein’ literal about it. But go deeper than that, Cas. Go deeper than the logistics of exactly how you got here. Why are you here, instead of in heaven?" 

The angel furrows his brow at Dean as he thinks. The drip of ice cream has started pooling on the table and he still hasn't moved to stop it. Dean wonders if he'll ever even finish the ice cream as he waits for an answer. This date isn't romantic at all, if he's being honest with himself. It's probing and intense and incredibly personal, but he can sense in the energy between them that they haven't spoken like this often in their lives together. In fact, Dean can count on one hand the amount of deeply personal conversations they've had that he can remember at all. 

"I'm here because I wanted to be," Cas finally says a hint of awe in his voice, "and I did something in order to get what I wanted." 

Dean smiles a gentle, proud smile. Cas is searching his face like he's trying to find a clue that anything he's said isn't correct, as though he's afraid he got it wrong again, but Dean won't give him that. 

"I didn't yank you outta Heaven, Cas. You just followed me out because you believed in something different than what you had and you wanted it." 

"You make it sound so simple." 

Dean knows Cas has said something like that to him before, under much more unhappy circumstances. He'd offered no understanding to the angel then, but he can do better this time. 

"It's definitely not simple. It's just easier to see from my view." 

~~~~ 

They go to the arcade next and Dean watches in glee from a chair the manager brought over for him as Castiel obliterates record after record under the ID _Chuck'sAngel_. The name had been Dean's idea. Cas grumbled about it, but Dean could tell he thought it was funny. He counted it as a win enough when Cas had understood the reference with a rumbling chuckle. 

Cas plays the games with deadly  focus, his eyes squinting intently at the screen as he handles the controls with masterful precision. Dean watches in captivation and for the first time since waking up in his bed sees the angel of the lord inside the man standing before him. The reflexes, the focus, the utter accuracy of his movements, each choice made with perfect strategy. 

"You're an angel." It slips out somewhere along Cas's 6th path to record domination. Dean is so utterly hypnotized he barely even recognizes the breathy awe his voice utters the statement in. 

Cas must not recognize it either because his hands falter on the controls as he turns to stare at Dean in surprise. 

"I…what?" His avatar falls down a chasm and he loses a life. He makes no move to start the level over. 

"I just forget that you're a real angel sometimes."

"Is that important to you? That I'm an angel?" 

"What d'you mean?" 

Cas looks down at his feet, his lips twisted grimly and Dean feels his stomach sink. Without intending to, he's clearly brought up something that makes Cas deeply unhappy. 

"Is my having grace of importance to you?" 

"What? N-no!" _Hammer. I need you. We need you. Need._ The snippets of things he's told Cas over the years barrage him as he attempts to understand Cas's question and it clicks. "Oh Cas. That's not why I've always wanted you to stick around." 

"Well perhaps not why you want me to stick around _now_." Cas still won't look at him. 

That hits Dean's gut like a lead weight. He had thought that at some point along the way Cas had come to understand that his feelings were genuine and unconditional, but clearly that wasn't the case. Cas wasn't human, didn't understand the subtleties of human language, and he had apparently never had the self-esteem to think he could be worth anything to Dean other than as a tool. 

"Cas, I haven't wanted you around for your usefulness in so long I can't even count the years. Sure, my memory is a little sketchy, but I remember enough to remember _that_."

He wants to offer Cas some sort of comfort- a hug, a handhold, and simple touch- but he's not allowed that yet, and so he leans forward in his chair until he's between Cas's line of sight and the floor. The angel's eyes are filled with conflict when they finally meets Dean's. Disbelief at Dean's words and yet desire to believe their truth. 

"How can you know that, Dean? You don't even remember our first kiss, or me dying, or saving me from Ephraim."

"Okay, Cas. Think of it this way. Does it matter? Does it matter if old Dean couldn't say how he felt? I _can_ and I'm what you've got now. _I_ don't care if you're an angel. _I_ don't care if you ever fight another battle in your life. _I_  don't care if you couldn't heal me anymore." Cas is staring at him like he's got three heads, but Dean doesn't care. "Whether or not you believe me, I didn't care a damn bit when you lost your grace Cas. It tore me apart inside when I had to send you away and the second you gave me a chance to see you again I was there. As far as I can tell, the only reason I've ever cared whether or not you had grace was because I knew _you_ cared. I didn't know you only cared because I did!" 

Dean shifts back in his seat and Cas's gaze follows him up. Expressions flit across his face in fast forward, shifting so rapidly Dean can't keep up with what they're saying. Without warning, Cas begins to laugh. It's a small, gentle thing, completely unlike the one at the diner where the creases around his eyes deepened and his cheeks split wide in a smile full of mirth. This one is silent, with eyes squeezed shut tight and shoulders shaking as a small, incredulous grin spreads his lips. Dean is baffled. 

"Why are you laughing? I'm being serious!" 

"I'm sorry. I know you are." Cas answers after coughing a few times to calm himself. "It's just. We really should have talked more, you and me." 

"Agreed." Dean answers dumbly, still feeling a little off kilter. 

"At least we're talking now." Cas decides, shooting a shy smile at Dean, no hint of humor hiding in its sincere depths. 

The weight of Cas's gaze buzzes across Dean's skin and he responds with the same shy smile. "We are." 

~~~~ 

When they finally decide to head back home for the night, a long drive ahead of them, Dean is tired but not as much as he'd expected. Cas had indulged him in frequent sitting breaks and a stop at the pretzel place where they'd split a giant soft pretzel with cheese. The intermittent rests had given him enough energy to keep moving through the small mall at his glacial pace. He would probably be exhausted tomorrow, but it would be worth it. 

As they make their way back through the long tunnel of shops and gaming places, leaning heavily on his cane, he feels Cas's hand sneak around his elbow. 

"I'm alright Cas. I don't think I'll need help to get back to the car." As he says it, he turns his head to look at Cas to see an amused grin on the angel's lips. 

"I know Dean." 

Cas lets his hand drift down from Dean's elbow, trailing slowly but confidently along his forearm until it settles against his own palm. Dean watches Cas intertwine their fingers and feels his heart pick up speed. 

"Cas?" He says, the unspoken question of ' _Are you sure?'_ in his voice. 

The angel nods, his blue eyes focused unwaveringly on Dean. 

"You're Dean. You're missing some memories, but in most ways, you're still Dean. I think…" He pauses and stares down at their slow moving feet. Dean wants to squeeze his hand encouragingly, but he doesn't want to push the angel to say anything. When the angel looks back up at him, there's a peace in his eyes that says he means exactly what he's saying. "I think I like lemon meringue as much as I like key lime."\ 

Dean does squeeze their fingers tighter together then, and he's reminded of the first time they held hands in the cave. He'd thought that was the greatest moment of his life, but this is much better. They don't let go the whole car ride back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday charmedbycastiel!! 
> 
> For the record, there really is truly hardly anything to do in like a 60 mile radius of Lebanon. Researching realistic date options was challenging. I'm officially done with my academic stuff, so the next chapter should be much quicker coming!
> 
> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	6. Redecorating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's angst in this chapter but it's not Destiel angst. Also, lots of slice of life, family time :)

Things don’t change much for the next couple weeks. Cas never does more than hold his hand but he does it with increasing frequency. Eventually, Dean decides he feels brave enough to try initiating it himself. They've finished up at the local bulk store, stocking up on food and other necessities for the month, and are just waiting in the long line to check out. Cas tells him it always takes a while to get out of this place because people buy so much, but Dean doesn't mind. He's happy to just stand there and lean on his cane as he watches Cas muse over the items in their cart. It's obvious from the round edge of Cas's voice that he doesn't mind either. 

He's not sure what pushes him to finally do it. Perhaps it's Cas's hand hanging limply at his side. Perhaps it's the sheer domesticity of their outing overwhelming Dean's need for affection. Perhaps he simply loses patience waiting for Cas to do something he's already done a million times. He moves in slow motion, giving Cas time to escape every step of the way. 

First, his fingertips graze his wrist as they skirt behind the angel’s forearm toward his palm. He’s looking directly ahead, fascinated by the toilet paper brand in the cart ahead of them. Cas hasn’t turned to look at him yet, but Dean can feel the slight tremble in his muscles as he waits. Dean’s fingers finally reach his palm, and Cas presses into the touch just slightly, letting Dean know it’s okay. When he meets the crux where the palm joins with fingers, Dean fits them together perfectly,  the practice of several weeks telling him exactly where his fingers fit. Finally, his grip closes down and their hands seal together, strong and close. 

Cas looks over at him once they’re fully connected and Dean’s heart beats hard in his chest, as if awaiting judgement. The angel gives him none. Only a content smile touches his lips, which Dean returns happily. He only lets go to unload the cart and pay. Then they push the cart in tandem, one hand each on the bar while holding hands in between them. 

~~~~ 

“Hey guys!” Sam greets them in the kitchen one day about a week later. “Jody just called. She was wondering if we’d all like to come up for the holiday now that Dean’s feeling a bit better.” 

 An uneasy feeling squirms in Dean’s gut and he takes a sip of his coffee to stall. Christmas at Jody’s. Realistically it’s a dream come true for him. That he knows of, they’ve never had a big Christmas. That he knows of, it’s all he’s ever wanted. He can feel it, too, the yearning to share that family spirit with those closest to him. 

He’s afraid though. No one but Cas and Sam have seen him since this happened. He’s spent the past few months recovering in the relative safety and consistency of his core team. He takes another sip of his coffee. 

“They’re going to understand, Dean. Even Claire. She’s old enough to get it.” 

Cas always seems to know precisely what’s upsetting him. 

“She shouldn’t have to get it. She’s lost both her parents and most of her parental figures. Now I’m not even the same anymore. And Donna? I don’t even remember how I met Donna!” 

“They’ll understand.” Sam repeats placatingly. “We’ll fill you in on whatever we can on the drive up there.”    

 It won’t be the same. No matter how much information they cram into his head, he’s not gonna be the Dean they expect and it’s going to be awkward. He agrees to go anyway. 

Sam chats some more with Jody and it’s decided they’ll drive up to arrive on the 23rd. Jody’s house is full-up with Claire, Patience, and Alex, but Donna had recently moved to the neighboring town, aptly named Rowena, and she has two guest rooms. After some bickering with Dean, they decide to stay through New Years and make a whole thing of it. Sam seems quite pleased, Cas is content, and Dean is anxious as hell. 

He can’t fall asleep that night. The rhythmic beats of his heart pound so hard his muscles hurt with it. He tries having Cas read to him, he tries counting sheep, he tries square breathing. Nothing works. The sheets of his bed are tied in knots with his aggravated squirming and Dean kicks them away with a frustrated groan when his feet get trapped. 

Without preamble, Cas comes back through his door, shucking his shoes off at the foot of the bed and abandoning his coat on the creaking chair before climbing into bed beside Dean. He doesn’t say anything, but Dean feels calmer with him just there beside him. 

They lay in tandem for several minutes while Dean incrementally relaxes. When his heart has finally returned to a normal pace and only his mind is racing, he speaks. 

“Are you going to stay here tonight?” 

“If you want me to.” 

Dean nods. “I wan-I want you to.” 

“Okay.” 

“Are you going to stay here tomorrow night?” It’s an important question. He doesn’t want Cas doing this out of obligation to care for him. He wants Cas to want it. 

He hears the rustle of Cas’s head moving against his pillow, but in the dark he can’t tell whether it was a shake or a nod. 

“Yes, Dean.” 

He breathes in relief. “Okay.” 

In one swift movement, he rolls away from Cas and tucks his back against the angel’s side, hoping he’ll figure out what Dean wants. As usual, he does. Dean hears him loosening his tie before throwing the piece of cloth to the ground and turning to press his front to Dean’s back. Cas himself is not warm, but Dean feels safe and protected in the angel’s sphere. One arm is wrapped around him, anchored solidly on his chest, where he covers it with his own. Cas’s breath is soft and even at the base of his neck. He falls asleep to it. 

The next morning, Cas is still there, and Dean is reassured he did not dream it. Warmth floods his chest and stirs him slightly from his grogginess. 

“Good morning.” 

“Good morning, Dean.” 

He turns over to face the angel and finds himself overwhelmed by the blueness of his eyes so close. They’re sapphire blue, with a clarity that makes them feel like a deep spring. 

“I know you said you wanted to stay tonight, but I hope you didn’t feel like you had to stay with me.” He doesn’t want to say it, but he wants Cas to have an out if he needs it. 

“I did not come in last night out of obligation. Truthfully, I’ve been wanting to stay with you for a few days but was uncertain of how to do it.” 

A blush rises on Dean’s cheeks and he ducks his head.  

“Well you were very assertive about it. I liked it.” 

Cas raises an inquisitive brow at that. “You like assertive, huh?” 

Dean blushes deeper, not having expected Cas to understand the deeper meaning, let alone flirt about it. 

“Yeah, yeah. You got me. Can we go make some breakfast now?” 

“Of course, Dean.” Cas acquiesces with laughter in his voice. 

~~~~ 

His anxiety doesn’t really ease much over the week leading up to their trip to Sioux Falls. Several times he considers calling Jody himself to ask her to prepare Claire but he can’t do it. When Cas watches him do it for the fifth time the day before they’re slated to leave, he holds his hand out for the phone. 

“Huh?” Dean asks dumbly. 

“I’ll tell her.” Is all Cas says. Dean swallows down the lump in his throat and passes the cell to Cas with shaking hands. The angel’s fingers squeeze his reassuringly before taking the phone. 

He moves towards the kitchen as he lets the phone ring but Dean can still hear him when she picks up and he voices his greeting. 

“Hello.” Pause. “This is Cas, yes.” Pause. “They’re both fine, yes. I just wanted to talk to you about Dean before we arrive.” There’s a longer pause this time and Dean realizes he’s begun following Cas down the hallway. “He’s recovering quite well, but he still doesn’t remember…a lot.” 

Dean knows Cas is aware of him eavesdropping. He knows Cas is likely choosing his words and his tone very carefully. In this moment, Cas isn’t breaking the news to Jody, he’s breaking it to Dean. 

“He might not remember things that are important to you or…Claire. He doesn’t want you to be surprised.”

The emphasis Cas had placed on _important_ rises bile in Dean’s throat. Tears begin streaming down his cheeks in torrents and his legs begin shaking beneath him. He leans his back the wall in just enough time before they give out under him and he slides to the floor. Logically, he’d already known what Michael had stolen from him. He’d known it for a long time in the quizzical looks from Sam, and the fights with Cas, and the hours spent trying to complete tasks he’d once done effortlessly. Hearing Cas tell someone else, though, opens a fresh wound. It’s real. 

“I need to go now, Jody. Would you please tell Claire and Alex for me?” 

Cas’s goodbye is fuzzy in his ears, as though he were suddenly speaking in a dream and none of his words were truly real.

“I didn’t want you listening to that, Dean.” Cas says, still fuzzy but much closer. 

Dean can’t open his eyes through the grief wracking his body but he can feel the angel kneel before him. The convulsive sobs grow harder, almost painful. Dean clenches his arms around his knees in an attempt to still himself, but it only makes it more painful. A hand presses firmly to his shoulder. He wishes it would ground him, but it doesn’t. Dean knows what’s coming, and it’s going to hurt fiercely. 

 _Their lips press together. It’s slow and sweet and mournful. Oh, how he had hoped this would happen differently. That he didn’t tell Cas all this before, when he came back, is Dean’s biggest regret. He wants to believe Michael will keep his deal, but it’s a pipe dream, and he’s well aware. If he wants Cas to know, now is his only chance._  

 _Time is passing too quickly and he knows it. Sam and Jack are in danger. He pulls away from Cas, a sad whimper escaping his throat before he steadies his breath. Locking his gaze on Cas’s, the lapels of his trench gripped tightly in his fists, he speaks._  

 _‘Yes.’_  

 _Burning pain sears through him as the archangel bursts through his skin, tearing his muscles, cracking his bones, boiling his blood. He can’t imagine his body surviving this onslaught, but this is what it’s destined for. It must be able to withstand this. It has to._  

 _The pain lasts some indeterminate length of time and Dean suddenly wonders if it’s possibly worse than the rack. He wonders if he’s screaming._  

 _Cas is standing before him, still staring into his eyes, capable of withstanding the blinding celestial light of Michael. Wings spread behind him, unfurling against his will from their perfect host, and then he is gone._  

 _Killing Lucifer is practically child’s play. Fighting back Michael is torture. He loses._  

 _‘I will. I will.’ He tells Michael over and over, even as he feels himself slipping._  

 _He sits in a chair in his cave watching TV. Casa Erotica is playing but the reception is bad. He knows he’s supposed to be watching something else, so he keeps changing the channel, hoping he’ll remember what it is._  

 _Suddenly his face erupts on the screen. What? Cas is there, holding a duffel bag asking him why he’s not ready to go._  

 _‘Cas shouldn’t be here.’ The sudden thought confuses Dean for a moment before he realizes why he’s correct. ‘Here is my head.’_  

 _He panics as he stares at the TV screen and shouts at his LCD counterpart that he and Cas don’t share a room, no matter how much he would like that._  

 _Suddenly he’s bloody, bruised, and amnesiac. Cas is trying to convince him he’d been on a hunt, but he hadn’t. He’s right here, in his own hellish mind. He changes the channel hoping it will switch something inside himself, but it returns to Casa Erotica. He becomes distracted by the pretty brunette currently lying on his bed with handcuffs on. It’s all too easy imagining himself with her, tugging her dark hair, touching her tan skin. But she isn’t right. She isn’t he. Dean changes the channel with trembling fingers._  

 _‘The duffel, Dean. Can’t you see the duffel is gone?’_  

 _LCD Dean isn’t getting the picture. He’s staring at Cas with giant, confused, green eyes, begging for an explanation. Cas grabs his hand and pulls him towards the garage._  

 _‘We haven’t done that yet!’ Dean sobs. This is torture. ‘Don’t hold him, you idiot. This isn’t real!’_  

_The channel changes again, this time to an old home video. He’s watching his mom bounce Sam up and down in her arms while his dad sits on the couch and builds a block house with him. It’s peaceful and his mom’s voice is soothing._

_The video is from his perspective though and that doesn’t make sense. He couldn’t have filmed this. And any tapes they had would have burned._  

_The channel changes again. Cas’s face is on it, broken and bloody. Fists connect with the bones of his jaw and Dean feels the impact in his hands. This is happening. He’s doing this to Cas!_

_‘No! Stop! Michael, you promised!’_  

 _He beats on the television but it doesn’t budge and Cas’s face grows more and more contorted with blood and pain with every gruesome punch._  

 _‘Stop!’ He screams. ‘Stop! Cas get away!’_  

 _For a brief moment, Cas’s eyes open fractionally wider and the blows take a moment’s pause. The angel is on his feet and running as fast as he can. Michael doesn’t follow. Can’t._  

**_‘Let me go, you ant.’_ **

_The archangel’s voice booms through the speakers of the TV with such force Dean is thrown back into his chair. Air rushes from his lungs at the impact and he can’t make his body move._

**_‘Interfere again, and he won’t escape.’_**  

 _The channel returns to Dean and Cas. Dean fights to remind himself that it’s all fake. It’s all fake. Just an illusion. Just Michael holding him captive in the prison of his kind._  

 _Finally, it comes to an end. He watches from his armchair as he drives the Impala into the Bunker door. The pain is excruciating. Dean isn’t even certain he can call it pain, it’s so much more intense than anything he’s ever experienced. It’s as though he’s made of porcelain and been smashed against a wall. Can you feel pain if you suddenly, violently cease to exist?_  

The world returns in stages. At first, all he’s aware of is the cold cement beneath his body, hard and icy even through his flannel. A bitter, aching feeling fills his bones, as though he’s run a hundred miles. He registers Cas’s voice next, but he can’t tell what he’s actually saying through the ringing in his ears. Something warm is pooled beneath his head and he becomes acutely aware of the sharp pain there. It pulses through him harder and faster, pushing away the fuzzy remnants the memory until he’s finally aware that his eyes are squeezed shut against the bright hallway light. 

“Ow.” He croaks, reaching for his head and touching it tenderly. Cracking open his eyes just enough, he sees red. Yep. Blood. “Cas?” 

“I have you, Dean.” The angel presses two fingers to his forehead and he’s healed. His head no longer pounds and the warm, sticky blood is gone, but he still feels wrecked. 

“What happened?” 

“You were having a flashback. A very long one. I tried helping you through it but you wouldn’t let yourself be touched. You bashed your head against the wall trying to move away.” 

Cas sounds sad and evasive. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” 

The angel bites his cheek regretfully. “You thought I was Michael.” 

“Oh, Cas. I’m sorry.” Dean sits up slowly and pulls the angel into an awkward hug. He sinks into it easily, not seeming to mind Dean’s head crammed up under his chin. 

“Are you alright now?” Cas asks. “That was a big flashback.” 

Dean breathes deeply a few times and takes stock of himself. He definitely needs a nap. And probably a beer. “I-yeah I think I will be. In a bit.” 

Cas releases him from their embrace and Dean watches as he sinks down into himself. 

“This was because you heard what I said.” His voice is quiet and defeated, as though he were the soul cause of Dean’s pain. 

“Hey, stop.” Dean says soothingly, reaching out in a moment of surety to cradle Cas’s cheek with his palm. “Yes, it’s probably because of what you said, but that’s not a bad thing. Just because it was unpleasant doesn’t mean it was bad.” 

“But you hurt yourself. You remembered-“ His voice breaks a little, “him.” 

Dean does his best to muster a smile, and partially succeeds. “I also finally remembered our kiss. I remembered the whole thing.” 

The angel looks up at Dean with wide eyes. “You did?” His voice is so open, gratitude suffusing it with meaning. 

Dean nods. “I wish I’d done it sooner. Wish I hadn’t waited for that moment.” 

“I wish I hadn’t either.” Cas answers. 

They sit there, on the floor together, simply listening to the whir of the generator and their own thoughts for a few moments. Dean wants Cas to kiss him. He knows Cas is thinking about it, likely debating the pros and cons of doing so, as he was wont to do.

The angel stands abruptly and holds out his hands to help Dean up. Once they’re standing, face to face, a determined look takes hold of Cas’s features. In one swift motion, he leans forward and presses his lips to Dean’s cheek. His scruff tickles Dean’s skin around the soft warmth of his mouth before both are gone. When they face each other again, Dean’s cheeks are bright red and a smitten look covers Cas’s face. 

“I’m glad you’re alright.” He says softly. 

“Me too.” Dean answers dumbly. 

~~~~ 

He spends the rest of the day in a haze, alternating between half paying attention to television and fitful napping. The memory had taken its toll and was a lot to absorb. Re-living almost nine months of mental anguish compressed into 26 minutes had both hollowed him out and filled him past his brim. He fights to hang onto the brief memory at the beginning where he and Cas had been connected by their shared feelings but he keeps flipping back to random memories of his fight against Michael, almost like he’s watching his life on TV again. 

Cas stays with him through the day, huddled up next to him on his bed as they watch shows on his computer. He seems to know when Dean drifts into an unpleasant memory and strokes his hair through it. After a particularly upsetting memory, he asks Dean if he wants to talk about it. Dean says no. Maybe once he's processed more of it on his own. Cas nods. 

He'd been thinking about the time Michael had beaten Cas. One of the times anyway. The feeling of Cas's bones breaking beneath his fists is still burning inside his skin, making him restless and twitchy. He needs to do something gentle with his hands to remind them that they aren't the malevolent force Michael had used them for. 

Turning in Cas's arms, he scans the angel's face, searching the places he remembers breaking. His left cheekbone, his right temple, the bridge of his nose. They were all healed, sealed shut with angel grace and time. Did Cas know what he was looking for? Reaching up, Dean runs his thumb along Cas's cheekbone, feather-light, barely touching yet overwhelming all the same. Cas's eyes flutter shut and for a moment Dean worries he's afraid, but the lines in his brow relax as Dean's thumb strokes back and forth, soothing away the painful touch with a gentler one. 

Eventually his hand slips from the angel's cheek and he falls asleep on Cas's shoulder. 

~~~~ 

The car ride is mostly quiet, the air only filled by Dean's tapes playing softly through the speakers. Their initial plan to fill Dean in on Jody and the others has been abandoned to avoid overwhelming him more after the flashback. As it is, he sleeps most of the drive, slumped against the window in the backseat and snoring softly while Sam drives. 

They wake him gently when they've arrived at Donna's to drop off their things before heading to Sioux Falls. Cas grabs his bag from the trunk while Dean wavers in the back seat, nursing his cane and debating whether or not to use it. He must sit there for a long time because Sam finally peers in at him through the open door with an encouraging smile. 

"If it's going to make you feel more secure, you should use it. No one's going to tease you about it. We'll probably be doing a lot of sitting though, so you might not even need it." 

Dean stares down at the cane a moment longer before nodding decisively and helping himself out of the Impala with it.

Donna greets them at the door with a huge smile on her face. She'd dyed her hair pink since the last time he'd seen her, but in actuality, he has no idea how long ago his most recent memory of her was from. She hugs them in turn, embracing Dean last. Her hugs were something he remembers well, and he sinks into it easily, taking in the comfort of what he probably considered one of his best friends.

"How are ya, kiddo?" She asks. As she pulls away, she leaves her hands on his shoulders and regards him fondly. He ducks his head in embarrassment at the endearment. 

"You're gonna call me that till the day I die, aren't you?"

"Darn tootin'." They share a smile of understanding before Donna turns back into the house. "Let me show you where you'll be stayin'." 

It's a ranch so Dean won't have to deal with any stairs, which he's grateful for. He would've made due, but they're still an excessive tax on his energy if avoidable. Sam takes the room with a single bed, leaving the room with a full to Dean and Cas. Logically, Sam should have the larger bed so he could spread out, but Donna doesn't comment when she leaves Cas and Dean to settle into the room together. Cas didn't actually bring anything, but Dean still lays out a pair of pajamas on his side of the bed. He'd designated a pair of his own to the angel after their second night together when he'd decided the suit was not comfortable snuggling up to. 

He unpacks in silence for a few minutes before the elephant in the room overwhelms him. 

"Do they know? That we're, ya know?" Except he doesn't know. What word is he supposed to use? They haven't discussed this. 

"Together?" Cas supplies easily, as though he'd thought it was obvious by now. His eyes are twinkling in the bright afternoon light streaming in through the window and Dean blushes. When had they come this far without him realizing it? 

"Yeah. Together."

"Sam implied as much, I believe. I don't know precisely how much they know, though. I imagine we'll be teased about it over wine at some point tonight."

"Awesome." Dean groans sarcastically. 

“I’m sure you’ve done much the same over their romantic lives.” 

“I can’t say I even remember what their love lives have been. Donna was dating some man named Doug, right?” 

“Two men named Doug.” Dean raises an eyebrow at that. “At different times. Neither worked out, that’s why she’s moved to be closer to Jody.” 

“Are they…together?” Dean asks innocently. 

Cas chuckles. “I don’t believe so. They’re best friends. Donna’s helping Jody deal with all the things that got stirred up when Kaia opened the portal to the bad place.” 

“The bad what? Who’s Kaia?” Dean’s already overwhelmed and he hasn’t even left the room yet.

“Um, it’s another dimension. Kaia and Jack sent you and Sam there on accident when you were looking for your mom a while ago.” Cas shifts uncomfortably and stares out the window. “Don’t talk about Kaia around Claire, okay?” 

Dean is confused but he can remember that much. He nods in understanding. 

Donna pops her head into the room with a soft knock on the doorframe. She’s changed out of her uniform and into a cozy red sweater and jeans. “Okay, boys. You two about ready ta head on over?” 

Dean’s eyes widen a little with hesitation but he plasters a nervous smile on his face and nods in affirmation. She smiles cheerfully and walks back towards the front door. Cas grabs Dean’s hand and guides him back out to the Impala. Donna’s truck would be better in the snow, but it’s too high and Dean knows he wouldn’t be able to get in and out of it without help. 

The drive is short and mostly spent with Donna and Sam catching up with each other. Dean dutifully listens and holds onto what details he can. Cas offers anecdotes here and there. 

Jody is waiting on the front porch, huddled up in a giant down coat and heavy boots. Dean feels warm when he catches her pleased smile upon seeing the Impala. 

“Careful, it’s slippery! We did our best to get salt and sand down but can never be too careful.” She calls. 

Cas is immediately at his side, steadying him with one hand on his back and one hand on his elbow. Dean is grateful for Jody’s warning the moment his heel strikes an unsalted spot and he slips backwards heavily into the angel’s arm. His legs are shaking and he’s breathing a little heavy by the time he reaches the door. 

“It’s good to see you, Dean.” Jody welcomes warmly once they’re safely in out of the cold. Her hugs are even more familiar than Donna’s. 

“Dean!” A girl with brown skin calls excitedly as she appears from around a corner. Dean knows this is Patience, but only because he’s seen pictures.

“Patience, hi. How are you?” 

“Better now that I finally finished up high school.” 

“You went back?” He wonders if this is something he should know. If it is, Patience doesn’t show it. 

“Nah. Jody helped me transfer to where Alex and Claire went, in town.” 

Dean nods in understanding. “Got it. Well, congratulations!” 

Patience doesn’t get a chance to ask how he is before a shy voice speaks behind him. 

“Hi, Dean.” 

Turning he sees Claire extricating herself from a hug with Cas. Her hair is shorter, hitting at her shoulders, but she’s still got a few characteristic braids running throughout. He thinks he remembers her best of all of them, but probably because she’s most associated with memories of Cas. 

“Hi Claire.” He realizes he sounds equally shy. Will she still like him? “How ya doin’?” 

“Better.” Is all she says, a clouded look filling her eyes. “Glad you could make it.” She sounds genuine, despite the sadness in her face. 

“Me too.” 

“Alright, boys. Boots and coats off. Can’t be tracking all that into the house. We can catch up over dinner.” 

She’s made a giant tuna fish casserole to go with the side salad and bread Donna had brought. Sam reveals a few packs of beer Dean didn’t realize he’d packed. 

They mostly make small talk that evening. Donna talks about some vamp nests she’s tackled with Claire. Alex talks about how ready she is to start her last semester of nursing school. She definitely wants to be an ER nurse. Jody’s been building and maintaining the hunter network they’d devised to monitor Michael’s movements. There wasn’t a hunter alive who didn’t know Dean, so it had been easy to use them to watch out for him. 

Dean gets away without saying much through the evening. Mostly he just eats his food and tries his hardest to filter what memories he does have to make appropriate comments when he can. Cas keeps one hand on his knee the whole evening, giving it a gentle squeeze whenever he zones out from the conversation. 

“So how long have you two been together?” Alex asks after they’ve transitioned to the living room. They’re sitting on the couch and Cas has his arm wrapped around Dean’s shoulder, which Alex is pointedly looking at. 

“Uhh. Um.” Dean flounders. They’d established that they were together, not how long. 

“A little over a month.” Cas answers for him, the words rolling off his tongue easily. “Right after we took out that poltergeist, Jody.”

“Ah, yes. Just before Thanksgiving, right?” She responds easily, as though talking about the weather. 

“Yeah, that’s right.” Dean gets out finally. He knows he’s blushing, but thankfully no one comments, and they move on for the night.

~~~~ 

On Christmas Eve night, they decorate the tree. Sam strings the lights, reaching easily to the highest branches. He’s got a giant smile on his face the whole time and Dean wonders if this is his first real tree. 

Once the lights are strung, Jody unearths boxes of ornaments from the basement. Dean sits in one of the armchairs sipping at eggnog and passing the little trinkets around for everyone to hang and taking the occasional photo. Finally, the ornaments are hung and only one thing remains. Chuckling, Dean removes it from its box and hands it to Cas. 

“Whaddya say, Cas. It ain’t often you got an angel to do the honors.”

Cas raises his eyebrow at the wire woven tree-topper, but accepts it with a begrudging grin. Everyone claps as he stands on the step stool and places the angel atop the tree’s peak. Dean takes another photo and smiles at the halo of colorful lights surrounding Cas as he focuses seriously on his task. He’s so engrossed in the photo that he startles slightly when Cas settles delicately on the arm of his chair and leans into his space to look at it himself. 

“I will never fully understand this tradition. We angels do not sit upon trees. If we did, we should surely crush them.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Size of the Chrysler building. I remember.” 

Cas looks down at him in surprise. “You remember that?” 

Dean chuckles at Cas’s disbelief. “I surprise myself too, sometimes.” 

~~~~ 

Christmas is nice. They wake up early to wrap presents and help Donna make mashed potatoes, yams and apples, peas and onions, and pie. Donna is apparently an expert pie maker, and Dean wouldn’t be surprised if they’d bonded over it at some point. She’s making pumpkin, apple, and strawberry rhubarb. He helps and tries to feel excited about eventually eating them. 

Thus far, everyone has tried very hard not to make him feel weird about being different, but he can tell when they notice. He felt it in the beats of silence after asking if anyone else had been watching the Queer Eye revival. He felt it when Claire had asked if he could look and see what was making her car shimmy and he said he couldn’t remember how. He especially felt it when Donna tried telling Patience the story of how they’d met and asked Dean if he remembered the donuts from one of their later cases and he didn’t. She’d tried to hide her disappointment by waving the moment off as insignificant but he could see her eyes grow shiny for a minute. He had squeezed Cas’s hand under the table a little too hard at that. 

Despite all that, Dean feels at home with these people, and he knows they’re special. He’s excited for them to open the gifts he and Cas had bought for them earlier in the week. This chance to spend a holiday with people he loves and who love him is precious. 

~~~~ 

“Merry Christmas!” Jody says brightly as they all file in and strip off their coats and boots. Even Cas removes his shoes and trench, which surprises Dean. Removing his clothes is Cas’s ultimate display of love and trust. 

Claire and Patience guide him into the living room, where they're playing some board game he's never seen. 

"Where's Alex?" He asks. 

"She drew the short straw at the hospital and has a shift. She'll be home a little after 6." Patience answers without looking away from the board. 

"Got it. I was wondering why we were starting so late."

"You gonna fall asleep on us, old man?" Claire asks him teasingly. 

Dean chuckles nervously. "You think you're joking." 

Claire appraises him thoughtful for a moment before nodding at the couch across the coffee table. "Sit down. You wanna play?"

They spend the next 15 minutes teaching him the rules. Halfway through, Cas joins them, settling himself on the couch beside Dean and draping his arm over his shoulders as always. Dean can't really remember when Cas started doing it, but the gesture is already so familiar it feels as though he's been doing it all along. 

Cas, of course, picks up on the game quickly, despite missing the first half of the instructions. Claire complains mildly that it's no fair playing against an angelic master of strategy, but Patience rises to the challenge and soon an intense square-off is under way. Claire and Dean are mostly just going through the motions as they marvel at their companion's domination. It soon becomes clear that they are using their supernatural abilities to their advantage. Patience looking ahead to Cas's next moves and Cas utilizing his millennia of experience to change his plans at every turn. When Patience gets the drop on him two turns in a row, he grumbles to himself about 'going easy' and Dean just squeezes his waist affectionately. 

The game ends when the front door opens and Alex steps inside, stomping her boots on the entryway rug. 

"Merry Christmas, everyone!" She greets happily as she pulls her coat off and hangs it in the closet. "Hope Patience didn't wipe the board with you too badly." 

They all sit down to dinner and Dean feels content and relaxed in a way he hasn't yet this visit. He's not sure if it's the holiday, Cas's easy affection, or everyone finally coming to peace with whatever his new place in the family is, but he's comfortable and happy. Once they've decided they can't eat more, they move to the living room for presents before tackling the pie. Claire and Patience sit side by side on the floor, distributing the presents one by one, and Cas is watching them with a faint smile on his lips. 

"Whatcha smiling about?" Dean asks, leaning over into Cas's space so only the angel hears. 

"Claire was so uncertain about Patience at first. On the surface, they couldn't be more different, but I think Patience has helped Claire through the aftermath of what happened with Kaia more than anyone." 

"What did happen with Kaia?" Dean asks. 

Cas frowns slightly. "I wasn't there. I wish I had been. I could have helped. But I think you should let Claire tell you, when she's ready." 

Patience interrupts them by thrusting a present into each of their laps, both wrapped in paper covered in silver snowflakes.  The little stickers say they're from Patience, Claire, and Alex. Cas opens his first to reveal a box set of Fringe and his eyes crinkle in recognition. 

"I remember you said you binged it once when Sam and Dean were out on a case but they didn't have it on instant anymore." 

"Thank you. I will watch it as soon as we're home."

Dean opens his next, to reveal a hardcover collection of Kurt Vonnegut's short stories. He feels his throat clog a little as he stares down at it and doesn't realize how long he keeps them waiting for a reaction. 

"Do you like it?" Alex asks, a hint of anxiety in her voice. 

Dean knows she means 'do you still like to read?' and he nods his head vigorously. He doesn’t even know how they know he likes this author. He really has no idea how much he used to talk to them. "I love it, thank you. It'll make great car trip material." 

Donna receives a set of concealed blades, Jody gets some new china in an effort to replace what had been broken the year before, Alex gets a beautiful anatomy tome from the depths of the bunker which she spends the evening pouring over, Patience gets a beautiful leather journal to jot down her visions, and Claire gets a starter set of car tools. Dean may not remember _how_ to fix a car, but he remembers what you need to do it. 

Throughout the gifts, Dean watches Claire grow more and more quiet. He doesn't think anyone else notices, distracted as they are by laughter, beer, and gifts but he's got nothing to do _but_ notice. Occasionally he even catches her glancing between him and Cas when she thinks they're not paying attention. When presents seem to be winding down, Dean looks at her and nods towards the kitchen. 

"Hey Claire, want to help me slice the pie?" 

Recognition settles over her features and she nods. "Uh, sure." 

Standing in front of the counter and slicing the pies with slow precision, Dean waits until she says what's clearly on her mind. It doesn't take as long as he expects. 

"Do you remember Kaia?" Her voice is a little tearful, but he doesn't comment on that. Guilt stirs around his stomach. 

"No, I don't. I'm sorry." 

"It's fine. I'd be surprised if you did, honestly. You only knew her for like a day." She pauses and takes a moment to carefully place a piece of pie on a plate. "I only knew her, for like a day or two. I feel so dumb that I can't get over it. I thought I was, but-" 

"But what?" Dean probes gently when she takes time to cut another slice. 

"You and Cas just remind me of what I was hoping she and I could've had a chance to have." 

"Aw, kid. Come here." Dean turns towards Claire and pulls her into his arms. They hug for a while, neither making a move to pull away. 

“Hey, how’s that pie coming?” Sam’s voice drifts in from the living room. 

Dean lets go with a chuckle. “Always so impatient, he is.” 

Claire clears her throat as she grabs two plates of pie and stares at them intently. “You’re definitely a little different, Dean, but your hugs are the same.” 

He smiles and ruffles her hair gently. “Funny. Sammy said the same thing.” 

~~~~ 

New Years Eve comes and Dean is confident he has the best family anyone could wish for. He’s not sure how it all came together like this, but he thanks everyone he can think of for it, including Chuck. After all, Chuck resurrected Cas more times than either of them would have expected. Neither of them can understand why he did that, even now. 

Patience has gone to watch the ball drop with some new high school friends, while Claire and Alex are out at some local bar. Sam had decided to go watch with Donna and a few other hunters at Jody’s, but Dean opted to stay home with Cas. He wasn’t even sure he’d make it to the drop and he didn’t want to be the sad sack asleep on the couch. 

As it is, he and Cas settle onto the couch in Donna’s living room to watch the show he’d gotten for Christmas with a bowl of popcorn and some beer. If they make it to midnight they’ll turn on the ball drop, but Dean is happy to just finally spend some time alone with Cas. He does indeed start falling asleep on Cas’s shoulder sometime around 10:30, but he asks the angel to wake him up in time anyway. 

"Wake up, Dean." Cas's voice sounds in his ear, accompanied by a gentle shaking of his knee. "It's almost midnight." 

"Hmm?" Dean asks, drowsily. A bit confused and not willing to open his eyes. 

"I said it's almost midnight. Do you still want to wake up?" 

With great effort, he pulls his eyes open and blinks away the heaviness. It’s good he probably wasn’t too deep into sleep yet, because Cas wouldn’t have been able to wake him otherwise. 

“I’m up. What were you waking me up for again?” 

Cas chuckles lightly at him. “The ball drop. Welcoming in the new year.” 

“Right, okay. I’m up.” 

He straightens up off of Cas’s shoulder so he can wake up a little more and Cas switches from the DVD to a news channel. 

“What do you want in the New Year?” Cas asks softly as the last minute to midnight begins. 

“I don’t know, really. Hadn’t thought much about it. I would’ve asked for what I got here on this trip I think.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Knowing I still have all my family behind me. I was…worried.” 

“I’m glad you got what you wanted.” Cas answers, his voice warm with contentment. 

The ten second count has begun, but Dean doesn’t really care. Cas’s face is open and thoughtful in a way he hasn’t seen before. “Why are you smiling like that? What do you want?” 

“Happy New Year!” The TV cheers in the background, but Dean pays it no mind. Cas has his cheek cradled in his palm and is closer than he’s ever been, eyes focused intently on Dean. 

“Just this.” Cas answers before leaning the rest of the way in and pressing his lips to Dean’s. 

It’s everything their first kiss had not been. Joyful, warm, thrilling. Cas’s hand slips around to the back of his head, but he just holds it there, not pulling him closer, not pushing for more. Dean holds the angel’s waist lazily, luxuriating in how slow and easy it is. 

Eventually Cas pulls away, tilting his head in that way of his with a happy hum. 

“That was nice.” He says simply. 

Dean can’t help but chuckle at that. “It was.” He agrees. 

“Donna told me at the store the other day that this is something people do on New Years Eve. I thought it would be a nice way to start the year.” 

Dean leans in and presses another kiss to Cas’s lips. Just a quick, firm affirmation of Cas’s words. 

“More than nice.” He says. 

“Happy New Year, Dean.” 

“Happy New Year, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and an epilogue to go!!
> 
> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	7. Where He Knelt

When they return to Lebanon, Dean feels a reinvigorated sense of motivation to engage in his life. He doesn't know what that means yet, but he knows he can only delay doing _something_ for so long. He starts in the kitchen. He'd mostly been cooking them simple things with the assistance of Cas and Sam. Burgers he often overdid, mac and cheese, spaghetti, casseroles. Sam would generally make some form of side salad and Cas always contributed breakfast to the cause, despite the fact he didn't eat.

With his new plan in mind, Dean holes up in the cave and spends hours looking up recipes he wants to try. Cas helps him grocery shop and then Dean sets to his first recipe, chicken parmesan with a side of roasted asparagus and mushrooms. Sam eats two helpings. The next day he makes handmade pierogis. Even Cas tries them this time.

As he cooks, memories start washing in. Not full-fledged flashbacks like he usually gets, but rather hazy ideas, flavors, and smells. Sometimes he gets a memory of the entire cooking process, but more often than not it's just a lingering taste that leaves his mouth watering. He finds a blank journal in the archives and starts jotting down his guesses of what they are. Chicken pot pie, poutine, gumbo, bread pudding. Foods from all around America. He works his way through iteration after iteration of the flashbacks in the kitchen until what hits his tongue matches his memories. With diligent precision and love he documents every attempt in the journal, circling the final successful attempt. Where he does manage to remember, or Cas or Sam happen to know, he credits the recipe to the original maker. Those ones he goes to extra pains to modify the final recipes and make them his own. 

He seems to know without thinking what the flavors and smells of his memories are. He knows ginger is the source of the potent tang and that cumin dominates the air once it hits a sizzling pan. His hands deftly handle whatever knife his recipe demands and he wonders if that’s leftover more from his old hobby or hunting. Early-February hits and Sam tells him he needs to slow down a little or they're never going to be able to finish it all. Dean starts to think a little harder about things.

Cas sits in the kitchen playing phone games with Patience and offering occasional words of encouragement when Dean gets frustrated. Sometimes, when he gets stuck he makes Cas try something and tell him if the molecules have the same ratios they used to. The angel teases him about feeling used, but he eats whatever spoonful he's fed and offers his knowledge with a grin on his face. Dean asks if he ever misses being able to actually taste food. Cas says 'not really,' but Dean watches him fall into a melancholy, far-away trance and he reminds himself to be patient because Cas will say something about it when he's ready.

~~~~

For Valentine's Day, Dean kicks Sam out of the bunker and he makes bacon cheeseburgers with a new recipe he's been perfecting. Cas tells him they're the best he's ever made. After dinner, they start watching a movie in the cave, but abandon it quickly when Cas straddles him in his chair. They make out like high schoolers and Dean thinks he might implode just from this until Cas unzips his pants.

"Cas, are you sure?" He tries to keep the eagerness out of his voice, to keep his tone patient and thoughtful.

Cas pauses a moment and purses his lips as he stares earnestly down at Dean's crotch. It's surprisingly adorable and Dean suppresses his laughter. "Just…second base?"

Dean does giggle at that. Cas, the powerful angel of the lord, anxious about a hand job. He's grateful they both are and he leans up and kisses the angel firmly on the lips in agreement.

They had nothing to be nervous about.

~~~~

When March opens, Sam announces he's going to help Jody and Claire track dark Kaia down and find out who she really is. He doesn't know how long he'll be gone, but he'll call every two days. If three days pass without word, something is wrong. It's the traditional way.

Dean feels adrift the day he leaves. He doesn't really need help anymore, and he hasn't in several weeks, but Sam leaving means he's really better. It means Sam is moving on. If Sam moves on, what is Dean left doing? The question haunts him all day and distracts him from his usual business. He overcooks his attempt at lunch, he sits in the tub until he's cold and shivering before realizing he should get out, and he flips through the entirety of Netflix before abandoning it entirely to read in the library. He's not significantly more successful with that.

The crux of the matter is that Dean knows he’s not ready to go back to hunting. If he keeps sitting around without a plan while he continues to gain back his strength, no one will question that he’s simply waiting to be ready to get his feet wet again. It’s easy to play it off as what he’s doing. The problem is, that isn’t what he’s doing at all.

“You’ve been quiet today.” Cas says as they sit at the kitchen table eating dinner. Dean had managed to cook it properly, this time.

Dean isn't sure who he's more nervous talking about this to, Cas or Sam. He wishes he could've had a chance to talk to Donna or Jody about it first, just to work through it all before the important conversations. But here they are and Cas has brought it up and he's not going to lie to him. He could. He could say he's fine and that he just misses Sam. It wouldn't be that different than Cas saying he doesn't miss food when his face had told a different story, but Dean is willing to wait for the truth on that matter. He has a feeling Cas's lie is more complicated.

"Sam's hunting." He starts.

Cas waits expectantly for a moment or two until he doesn't continue. "He is hunting, yes. I imagine you will be as well, soon."

Dean looks up at the angel, feeling how wide and scared his eyes are as he stares at him. His heart is pounding a mile and minute and his hands have begun to shake so he clasps them in his lap. He clears his throat.

"What if-" It's too hard to say while he's staring at Cas, so he looks down at his half eaten food. "What if I don't want to?"

"Oh." Is all Cas says for a moment or two. Dean looks up to find the angel regarding him thoughtfully. He doesn't seem upset or disappointed, just pensive. That’s good at least. "Is it because you don't remember how?"

Dean shakes his head, stomach sinking slowly. He hopes this doesn't end up the same as his conversation long ago when he'd tried telling Cas he wasn't going to get all the way better. "I remember, mostly. I've practiced shooting in the range and my aim is still mostly there. I've read my dad's journal front to back. I've even found a case or two just on accident. I could get back into it without too much trouble."

"But…you don't want to." It's not a question, but Cas still sounds hesitant, like he's unsure how he's supposed to respond. Dean looks back up from his lap and when he sees Cas, he thinks their expressions must mirror each other closely. Fragile, uncertain, lost. What do you get when you put a broken angel with a broken hunter?

"When I talked to Billie, in the veil, she told me if I could make it through this, I could get away from it. That my duty was done and I could just…live." His throat clogs up as he speaks and he feels a dull pressure closing down over his chest as the relief and trepidation of finally talking about this pours into him. Cas sneaks his hand under the corner of the table and wraps it over Dean's, where they're still clasped in his lap. "I didn't think I really knew what I did or didn't want yet, but this morning when Sammy left and didn't ask me to go with him, I was just relieved."

"You're worried we won't accept you as anything other than a hunter." Cas's voice is full of recognition and, to Dean's surprise, a little bit of eagerness.

Dean tilts his chin in an almost imperceptible nod. He feels a little embarrassed when Cas puts it so simply.

"Dean, Sam didn't ask you to go hunting because he didn't want to pressure you into it. Not because he thinks you're not ready to help."

"What?" Dean asks, his voice abruptly loud in surprise. "You've talked about this?"

"Of course. Sam's been wanting to get back to hunting for a while now and it's hard not to notice that your interests have been lying elsewhere." Cas looks meaningfully at the stove. "Sam doesn't mind. He knows your heart's not really in it anymore. It wasn't even before Michael."

"What about you?" His voice is quiet and he clenches and unclenches his hands nervously. Cas turns fully towards him and places his other around Dean's as well, stilling their motion in his tight hold.

"Dean, just as you would love me if I were no longer an angel, I will love you if you are no longer a hunter."

A small gasp slips through his lips at the angel's words and he lifts his head abruptly to stare.

"Cas! You said-"

The angel smiles serenely at him. "I know. And I meant it."

Dean's lips split into a wide grin and he feels his eyes prickle with the disbelief of it all. "Can you say it again?" He whispers.

Cas leans in and cups his cheek in his palm. "I love you." His voice is strong and confident and his eyes stay locked on Dean's, no hint of uncertainty or hesitation to be found.

"I love you, too." Dean whispers, his lungs constricting with the overwhelming joy of finally saying the words he's wanted to say for so long. He repeats it, just to hear his voice say them again. “I love you, too.”

“I’m sorry it took-“

“No apologies.” Dean interrupts with a shake of his head. “We can’t change what happened, but we made it here anyway.”

Cas's frown smooths and he leans in, pressing a slow kiss to Dean's lips. Dean likes these kisses best. The ones with no need, no haste, just the simple, slow pleasure of touching with nothing to accomplish. They rewire the meaning of intimacy in his mind, transforming it from a means to an end to a being all its own. Pleasure for pleasure's sake, not intended to erase the heartbreak of the day or hurdle toward release in a dark motel room.

They curl up in bed that night and watch a movie.

~~~~

With Sam gone and his recovery no longer an exciting daily event, Dean gets a little stir crazy, pent up in the bunker with nothing to do. He lasts until the day after Sam's first check-in before he breaks.

"Can we go on a road trip?" He asks, plopping down in a chair across the table from Cas and popping his feet up on the surface. The angel looks up from his book in amusement.

"The mountains of food you've been cooking not entertaining you anymore?"

"There's no one to frickin' eat it! The freezer's full up."

"Where did you have in mind?"

"Let's go see Old Faithful."

So they go see Old Faithful. It's a long day's drive, but they're used to it. They pack a cooler full of Dean's frozen meals to eat wherever they stay for the night and set out. Dean drives part of the way until he can't focus on the road anymore and Cas takes over. They arrive far past sunset so they turn in for the night at a crappy little tourist hotel that costs way more than it should. Dean passes out almost immediately and he wakes to Cas watching Fringe on his computer.

They park as close as they can get to the trail early that morning. People are milling about already, but it's not as busy as it could be. It's not vacation season, it's still pretty cold, and it's a Thursday. Dean slips his gloved hand into Cas's bare one and they walk slowly along the trail, dusted with an early morning flurry.

The smell of sulfur is subdued by winter, but it's still potent and recognizable. Dean's first thought isn't demons and Cas doesn't drop his blade (though Dean knows it's there) and he thinks he likes these new memories very much. The geyser is closer to the parking lot than he expects and soon enough, they're standing before, an expansive heap of land surrounded by fences always just minutes from erupting again.

Dean captures a passing tourist with a plea and a smile, handing her his phone and ushering Cas into position for a picture. There aren't many photos of them. A random few, here and there, mostly that Bobby took. Cas doesn't seem to understand what he's supposed to do and stands there dumbly looking at the camera until the girl looks at Dean in confusion.

"Geez, Cas. Okay, look here." Dean takes Cas's arm and wraps it around his waist until the angel gets with the picture and pulls him tight. Dean slings his arm over his shoulder. "Now smile."

The pictures are awkward and awesome and Dean loves them. Cas doesn't quite get it in any of the frames, but he's beautiful in all of them and Dean is happy. Old Faithful goes off a few minutes later and Dean manages to snap one photo of Cas staring at it.

They drive past a moose on their way back to Lebanon and Dean sends a photo to Sam.

~~~~

Sam returns home three weeks and two more trips later. He looks exhausted and a little defeated.

"No luck?" Dean asks as he hands a beer to his brother who slumps at the kitchen table.

"Not exactly. We found her but she was so strong. And seeing her…Well it messed Claire up pretty bad."

Dean raises his eyebrows at that. "Claire was there?"

"You gonna try and tell her she can't go looking for Kaia?"

Pursing his lips, Dean shrugs in defeat. "Nah."

"We're going to regroup and try to find her again once we have a better plan."  
Something about the way Sam says it hits Dean a little funny and he bites his lip anxiously as he debates bringing this up to Sam right now. He does it. "We…not including me?"

Sam's eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline and he looks a little sheepish. "I, uh, didn't think you were interested in all this. Anymore."

Dean nods, taking a swig of his beer to delay the inevitable. Sam already knows, but telling him makes it final. The idea thrills and terrifies him. "I'm not."

Sam smiles. It's a bittersweet smile. One that marks the end of a life together that brought both love and misery. One that marks the beginning a life apart that holds things unknown.

"I'm happy for you."

~~~~

Jack calls Castiel up to heaven one day. It's abrupt and all of Dean's existing memories tell him to hold tight and not let go, but he resists them. Cas tells him he'll be back by tomorrow. If he's not, something is wrong.

Tomorrow arrives and so does Cas. Dean's lungs deflate in relief and he almost cries when he sees Jack and Cas walk down the bunker steps together.

"Dean!" Jack cheers as they step into view of each other and he bounds down the remaining steps to hug him.

"Hey, kid. Long time no see." Dean mumbles into his hair as they embrace.

Jack looks guilty when they separate. "Sorry I couldn't be here. Heaven kind of needed me."

"We go where we're needed. I was in good hands and probably boring company." Cas roles his eyes at that. "What're you doing down here though? Whaddya need Cas for?" Cas and Jack exchange a look and Dean's gut clenches painfully. His next words come out potent with bitterness that surprises him. "They better not need Cas for anything up there."

"No, we just-" But Cas interrupts him with a hand to his shoulder and a headshake.

"Let me, Jack. Why don't you go find Sam and bring him out here?"

The Nephilim nods  hesitantly, but meanders off towards Sam's room.

"Cas, what's going on?" Dean demands as he feels tears press against the backs of his eyes.

"Nothing like you're worried about Dean." The angel answers soothingly. "They don't need _me_ in heaven. They need part of me."

Dean retracts his head in confusion. "What does that mean?"

Jack reappears with Sam in tow and Cas nods in the direction of the war room. Once settled, Jack takes the helm and explains.

"I found a way to make more angels. It's what I've been doing up there this whole time. But I can't do it like Chuck could, from scratch. I need a, uh, starter."  
Dean raises an eyebrow. "I'm sorry. Are you comparing angels to sourdough?"

Sam chuckles but stops quickly when Jack nods earnestly. "I thought a food analogy might be helpful." Dean acquiesces the point with a shrug and Jack continues. "Obviously, the starter is grace, but I need a lot. Behind Gabe, Cas is the strongest angel left and we kind of need to keep our last archangel."

He lets his words hang in the air as Sam and Dean process what he's saying. Logically, Dean knows what he's suggesting, but he can't make his brain accept it, and so he gets stuck sitting and staring Jack as he tries to figure out his thoughts. Sam doesn't take quite so long.

"You want to ask Cas to give up his grace? Again? Are you all nuts up there?"

"They didn't ask me to do this, Sam. I offered." Dean looks over at the angel in shock. "Jack asked me to come up there to contribute a portion of my grace to a pool they were going to collect from each of the remaining angels."

"Well why can't they still do that? Why do you have to give all yours?" Cas smiles patiently at him as if to say _think about it_ and it hits him. The food. Cas does want to taste food again. He does want to be human, he just thought it wasn't possible because heaven was literally going to collapse without him. "Oh."

"I don't want to stay like this, while you grow old and die and then live another eternity without you. Do you understand?" His voice is soft, but he isn't pleading. He's going to do this whether Dean agrees or not, but that's how Dean knows this is right. For possibly the first time in their lives together, Cas is checking in with him, communicating with him, but not for permission. This is right for Cas.

"I understand."

~~~~

Human Cas is different. He mumbles in his sleep, drinks his coffee with milk and sugar, eats his burgers well done instead of medium, wears sweatpants around the bunker and jeans on errands. He gets a cold the first time he doesn't get enough sleep and gets annoyed by how often he has to use the bathroom. He prefers sweet food over savory food and puts entirely too much toothpaste on his toothbrush. He gets ornery when he's not slept well and he uses up the hot water when he showers.

Human Cas is still Cas. His favorite article of clothing is still the trench coat, bacon cheeseburgers are still his favorite food, he still stays up too late watching Fringe. He buys too many of the same thing when he goes to the store, collects mementos wherever he goes, and forgets to separate his lights and darks in the wash. He wakes Dean every morning with a kiss on the forehead, listens to his rambling stories with endless patience, and has a wit as sharp as his angel blade.

Cas is Cas.

Once the initial transition has passed, Dean and Cas start figuring out what they want to do with themselves. Gabriel had paid them one final favor in exchange for all they'd done for his father's ultimate creation. Dean and Cas can do whatever they please, and their pasts won't catch up to them. He can just be Dean Winchester, born on January 24, 1979 in Lawrence, Kansas, son of John and Mary Winchester, big brother of Sam Winchester, and co-owner of 'Sea to Sea' in Topeka, Kansas with Castiel.

Opening the restaurant had been no easy feat. He and Cas didn't have any actual collateral to drop by way of qualifying for a business loan. They'd spent months working odd jobs and trying to save enough to qualify them, but to no avail. One day, Dean opened his email and let out a yelp of surprise.

 

_Dear Dean and Tweety Pie,_

_I've had the pleasure of running into the tallest Winchester on one of his hunts (no, I didn't do anything) and he happened to mention your little business venture. As a multi-century old witch, I happen to have quite extensive interest savings. You'll find a little contribution has been wired your way. Think of it as a thank you for finally putting an end to Lucifer. I expect 5-star dining on the house next time I pop in._

_Ta for now. Your brother and I are off to take down a particularly nasty fae._

_~ Rowena_

 

In Dean's account is a deposit of $350,000. It's far more than they'd been trying to get, and significantly more than they have any real intentions to use, but Rowena will take none of it back. When the restaurant finally opens, they put the rest in high interest accounts for a rainy day.

Running the restaurant is fulfilling in a way he didn't think anything ever would be. He puts care and attention into constructing the menu, building it on regions of the country the recipes had come from. Cas keeps the books balanced, sources their ingredients, and  keeps the general happenings of the place in working order. They hire an outside party for advertising because neither of them knows squat about how to reach the people.

Cas does eventually figure out how to use Twitter, though, and his dry humor and ridiculous photos rapidly build them a healthy following. At first, Dean is nervous about the photos, some of which make their relationship quite obvious, but it seems to be okay. The support seems to drown out the distaste and their bottom line doesn’t suffer for it.

No matter what Gabe promised them, they ward their new home and the restaurant. Everywhere throughout the buildings sigils are painted, hidden by a base coat and colorful top coats. Paranoia is a hard habit to kick.

While they wish Jack could stay with them, his immortality would be difficult to hide forever, living amongst regular people. As such, he hunts with Sam mostly, and visits them on weekends. They email often and Cas keeps a digital collection of their adventures. Occasionally Rowena joins the duo, which is confusing at first, but they get used to it. After all, hunting _with_ Sam is preferable to being hunted _by_ Sam. Dean doesn’t exactly know what their relationship is, but he knows his brother well enough by now to know that killing Rowena will ruin him. Billie’s prophecy hangs in the air over them all the same and he knows Sam will fight his destiny until the day he dies.

~~~~

Two years later they drive to the bunker for their monthly family dinner. The bunker is empty when they arrive and Cas looks at Dean in confusion.

“Where is everyone? We’re not early.”

“No, we’re not.” Dean answers with a soft smile as he pulls Castiel from the stairwell with a gentle tug of his wrist. He settles them on the spot.

Cas looks around him, suddenly aggravated. “Dean, why’re we-“

He falls silent when Dean drops to one knee and looks up at him with wide, nervous eyes.

“Cas, four years ago today, we stood here and I made a decision that tore us apart. Today, I’m asking you if you’ll say the same word when I ask if you’ll be with me forever.” Cas is staring down at him in awe as Dean reaches into his coat pocket to retrieve the small velvet box. His hands shake as he opens it to reveal the silver band, beautifully engraved with Enochian sigils, within. “Will you marry me, Cas?”

Cas nods his head vigorously, his eyes shining with joyful tears. When he speaks, his voice is thick with overwhelming happiness. “Yes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	8. Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content notes/Spoilers kind of: Technically, this chapter is MCD for pretty much everyone. But like, in a mostly natural, wholesome, happens to us all sort of way. Though technically death is sad, it's not written with the intent to be that way and it's definitely not written as an "end" per se. I didn't archive the fic as MCD because I don't think it's the point of the fic or particularly traumatic. The fic as it stands is complete without this final part, so if this is chapter is going to upset you, you don't need to read it and you won't be missing anything vital. I have written a short summary in the end notes, if you don't want to read the whole thing but want to know the general content <3

Dean is the last to pass. It happens late in the morning one day, while he and Jack are reading in the war room. A heart attack. Jack soothes him through it, but doesn’t call for an ambulance. Dean didn’t want that. He tells Jack to come visit in heaven and then he’s gone.

Sam had passed first. It had been violent and sudden as many hunter deaths were. Rowena had attempted to commune with a powerful nature spirit that was wiping out towns at random with ferocious storms. Instead of communicating with her, the spirit had possessed her. Sam’s attempt to free her of it had backfired, taking both he and Rowena to the afterlife. Dean knows Sam has a spot in heaven, but he always wondered what happened to Rowena.

Castiel passed many years later, peacefully, from kidney disease. He’d lived 43 long, fulfilling years as a human. Losing him had been hard. Dean always thought Cas would be the last to go, young and new as his human body had been. It hadn’t worked that way though. Now Dean was following, not long after. Love works that way so often.

There he is, lying on the bunker floor, cradled in Jack’s arms. The young man will be sad, but they won’t be separated for long. Those are the perks of being the Nephilim who saved heaven. You get to visit whoever you like.

Looking at himself is strange. He knows he’s done this several times before, but this is the big one and he’s old this time. Dean chuckles a little as he inspects his wrinkles and balding head, able to appreciate his shiny dome and liver spots from a new angle. If you can't laugh at yourself when you're a disembodied soul, when can you laugh?

"Dean." A rich, velvety voice speaks from behind him. He turns around and raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Billie? Woulda thought I was a little below your pay grade at this point."

She smiles, and he's a little surprised to see that for the first time ever, it's a pure, humorous smile.

"Dean Winchester will never be below my pay grade. I told you I was going to see you later. It's later." Dean shrugs to concede the point. "Before we go, I have one question. When I take you from here, would you like to be fully reassembled or stay as you are?"

He blinks at her, somewhat affronted by the question. "I don't need reassembly. I don't need any of that stuff I don't remember. Why would you even ask that?"

"I just had to check."

He begins to ask another question, but suddenly he's being pulled along by an invisible thread and then they're in the Veil. It takes him a moment to orient himself before speaking.

"So if you're reaping me, does that mean you took Sam and Cas to heaven, too?"

"Sam, yes. Castiel, no."

A fire erupts in the pit of his stomach and Dean feels the acid rise up his chest in fury. His voice echoes about the shelves as he yells. "That's bullshit, Billie. He had a soul like any of us and you dropped him in the Empty anyway? He deserves to go to heaven, and even you know it."

Death raises an eyebrow at him coolly, as though he were a toddler having a tantrum. He seethes as she stands before him with her unshakable, calm demeanor.

"You done?" She asks. He nods begrudgingly. "I couldn't take Castiel to heaven yet. Arrangements had to be made. So, I brought him here."

Dean blinks in surprise. "Here?" His voice is suddenly small.

"Hello, Dean." The familiar voice that speaks from around the corner of a shelf almost brings tears to his eyes. It's been so long since he heard it.

"Cas!" He wraps the other man in his arms and they hold one another for several moments before Cas extricates himself.

"You followed quickly." He sounds glad. His eyes are wrinkled and drooping, but blue as ever.

"What're you doing here, Cas? Why didn't you take him to heaven?" Dean turns to address his second question to Billie, but she's gone. "God dammit."

"She does have a tendency to do that." Cas sounds amused and Dean turns back to him in confusion. He's so unbothered by this whole situation.

"What's going on Cas? Why're we here?"

"Let's walk, Dean." Cas grabs his hand; old, arthritic fingers settling in their familiar places between Dean's. They begin meandering among the shelves and despite himself, Dean can't help but stare at them, with their titles in every language and script possible. "Billie didn't take me to heaven, because I don't have one. The individual heaven's form when a soul is created the natural way. Egg meet sperm. But Metatron created my soul from the tablet, which was not natural, and thus I have no heaven."

"But that's not fair!" Dean cries petulantly.

"Wait a minute, Dean. I'm getting there." Cas squeezes his hand patiently, and Dean closes his mouth. "Chuck came and talked to me when Billie first brought me here."

"Chuck came and talked to _you_?" Dean asks incredulously.

Cas levels him with a scandalized look. "Don't sound so surprised, dear. Anyway, he came and explained some things and said he wanted to thank me."

"You mean all those times he resurrected you weren't a thank you?"

Cas shakes his head with a wry grin. "Those were his means of interfering. I was the only angel carrying out his will as intended, and thus he needed me to remain on the playing field. He brought me back after the Leviathan killed me because he knew you would need a fallen angel's blood. Why I came back as Emmanuel, I can't really say. Anyway, he never properly thanked me for doing everything I've done to protect humanity, so he said he would make me a heaven of my own or I could wait here and ask if I could share yours. If you agree to share, which I would prefer by the way, he'll make some adjustments to it, so it suits both of us."

"Of course I'll share, Cas. How could I turn up an opportunity like that?"

Cas turns towards him, a loving smile on his face. "Then let's go."

Light envelops them both and then they're standing in a yard, all green grass and maple trees. To their right, a few boxes stand beside a beautiful flower garden and buzz with the sounds of bees. A small cabin stands on their left, lit warmly from within with a few lamps. In the distance is a pond. A single pier extends into its depths, at the end of which sit two chairs.

Dean turns to kiss Cas softly. It's been so long, but now they have eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! Thanks for sticking with me <3 If you can believe it, this was originally intended to be a 2 chapter fic showing Cas helping Dean overcome the selective-mutism he gets after traumatic things happen to him. Instead it became essentially how I wish the show would end, because nothing makes me happier than the idea of Dean finally escaping the hunting life and having the proper happy ending that I think he deserves. Anyway, I've had a lot of fun writing this and taking you on Dean's recovery journey. 
> 
> Epilogue content: Dean and Cas die of old age. Sam and Rowena passed sometime earlier while hunting. It is implied that Jack will join them in heaven when they've all passed and can visit them as he pleases. Billie reaps Dean, tells him Sam is in heaven, and brings him to the veil where Cas is because Cas doesn't have a heaven. Chuck offered to either make him his own or change Dean's to make it "shareable" as a final gift to him for protecting humanity when no other angel would. They agree to share (obviously) and they enter their heaven together. 
> 
> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


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